The run up to Christmas is great. All the usual songs on the radio, the excitement of the children, and most of the adults, and the run up to a week or so off work.
It's just the other stuff that makes me sound like Scrooge. Bills tumbling through the letter box, all those extra pounds and the dark looming days January to look forward to. And I don't know whether it's just me but everything bad that's ever happened to me has happened at Christmas. Two motorbike crashes, nearly croaking from meningitis and my mum dying.
But as I always do I'm going to forget about the previous holidays and enjoy this one. Who knows, maybe this year will be uneventful.
To that end I've already begun clearing a space below the fireplace just in case Santa decides to leave me a Porsche. I'm going to leave some extra big biscuits and a glass of sherry for his effort.
12 hours later.
And it's already begun. Sometime last night my mains water pipe burst somewhere between my house and the street. It's not hurling cars up into the street like Independence Day, but still bad, and to show their concern for my plight, the water company is going to get someone right out - about Monday or Tuesday.