I CAN’T believe it’s THAT time of year again. But I know it is because of the rising sense of panic, that despite making lists, leaving loads of time and spending hours clicking away on the internet and trawling round Beales, I’m still not ‘all ready for Christmas’.

I haven’t left enough time to thread cranberries on a wire to make into tree decorations (as advised by one magazine), purchased this year’s ‘must-have’ gift or acquired the frock that will make me look as if I’ve dropped a dress size (Yeah, right).

I have still got a pile of stuff to do but I won’t be complaining because making efforts is what Christmas is all about, whether it’s doing without so you’ve got enough to spend on the kids, or taking the time to send ancient and lonely relatives or neighbours a card to let them know you’re thinking of them.

(And on the tricky subject of cards, has anyone ever had the nerve to ask those who don’t send them exactly how much they do give to charity in lieu?!) Every year we are told by the Christmas-haters that the festival is bad for the climate, bad for our stress levels and bad for our waistlines.

Don’t you believe it.

Because I have come to realise that the saddest person at Christmas isn’t actually the woman who’s rushed off her feet; shopping, cooking, decorating, scribbling Christmas cards and breaking up fights between the children.

It’s the person who receives no cards, has no one to cook for and who dreads what should be the happiest day of the year because they are so lonely. I thank God for every busy Christmas I have, because the alternative is too horrible to contemplate.

So thank you to everyone who’s taken the time and trouble to write to me over the past year, and to everyone who’s been kind enough to send me a Christmas card.

And here’s my festive wish. May you have the most wonderful and perfect Christmas – for you.