I second that commotion

This is the time of year when someone at a party somewhere - after you've confided that you haven't even started your Christmas shopping yet - will tell you that they do all of theirs in July and August. Then they'll add that they just don't understand why everyone doesn't do things that way. It is, of course, perfectly appropriate at this point to tip them head first into the rum punch, bellowing "Because we've got proper lives, that's why!" You may then politely take your leave and disappear into the night in order to begin the search for a suitable 24-hour petrol station to do all of your gift purchasing in the time-honoured fashion.

It's clear that there are two very distinct camps when it comes to Christmas: those who seem to have everything effortlessly under control and, secondly, normal people. The first are so adept at yuletide skills that they are able to send cards at a time when it's still viable to put a second-class stamp on them. They wrap presents with nonchalant ease listening to carol services from King's College Cambridge on the radio while the Christmas pudding that needed to be prepared weeks in advance sits smugly on the kitchen counter. Meanwhile, in sane people's houses, presents are wrapped on Christmas Eve when it's obligatory to run out of Sellotape, passive-aggressive family members are plied with sherry to take the edge off and there's a vague smell of burning emanating from some ill-conceived attempt to get the cooking under control a little bit earlier this year.

Years ago, after spending all of my Christmases in the latter environment, I passed one particular Yuletide as a guest in other, infinitely less chaotic, surroundings. It was like a TV advert. Family pets in reindeer antlers scampered playfully among children with impossibly white teeth who opened presents without even damaging the wrapping paper, as adults looked on approvingly in matching seasonal jumpers, sipping liqueurs from crystal glasses, offering each other knowing looks and simpering smiles. OK, I might be exaggerating a bit, but not too much. There was certainly an air of well-rehearsed Christmas competence on display. The meal itself was timed to perfection - no cold gravy or soggy sprouts at this table, let me tell you. The presents were all thoughtful and well-received and the whole day passed without a single raised voice, if you don't count the Queen's speech being on a little too loud.

I thoroughly enjoyed that Christmas and I'm grateful to my hosts to this day. Here's the thing though - the festive period is to be relished even more if it involves just a light sprinkling of chaos. Makes it feel like home somehow.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

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