Like many people, I suspect, I have a love hate relationship with Christmas which shows a predictable pattern. It is a battle between Santa and Scrooge right up until the last minute. The hatred in the early weeks of December is intense; eclipsed only by the even greater hatred in November. I resent the imposition. I dislike the diary terrorism and the one-upmanship and the self-induced and foolish anxiety over cards and gifts, turkeys and trees. I fully understand the sentiments of those who want just to be left alone, away from it all. To hibernate, blank it out and simply get on with their lives. But I also sympathise and understand those, for whom it is the highlight of the year. The event they plan and take delight in preparing for, often with great creatively, thinking of others and how they can enjoy the time together. It can only be a good thing and yet I don’t want to be dragged into it against my will. Not just yet, that is. As in most things, I am a late developer. (which is a kind way of saying I am slow) and so I know that despite my latent protestations and as sure as night follows day, come the time my little heart will melt and I will be lost in the wonder and the awesomeness of it all. Just don’t tell me about it now. I am still on the way.