Lost in the depths of leftovers, an extra layer round my waist and an overriding need to make each day special for the children. As each day passes the crackling excitement of Christmas chips at the edges just a little more, so that even today's trip to the panto did not reach quite the expected height on the ho ho ho'meter - probably because I refused to buy a flashing, strobe, glowing plastic thing to swing around and agitate the epileptic among the audience.

I can no longer force my youngest to behave well with the threat of Father Christmas watching him, so have to employ the more traditional raised eyebrows and the, obviously, very rarely used raised voice. Which means we are slipping out of that lovely protective Christmas bubble that made the days so special, and back into ordinary life which means washing, cleaning, shopping and writing...Well, this is a start. My computer taunts me to get going on my story plan and required 30 pages before the start of term, but my mind is as empty as the kids stockings before they FINALLY went to sleep on Christmas Eve.

Please do send me ideas, if you have a great one but can't be bothered to write it....