Every year we read of some bloke who did all his shopping on Christmas Eve in two hours flat and doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about.

I suspect if we look at what this burst of generosity comprised, we would not be as impressed as he would hope.

A few boxes of discounted chocolates, some flowers from the petrol station and a bottle of Cava does not a Christmas make and I suspect that Mr. Last Minute has a wife who has been running ragged for several weeks to make his leisurely approach possible.

Even an average sized family with a small circle of friends wrestles with lists and schedules for weeks. In Baker Towers we resolved that this year we would get Christmas sorted by the end of November.

When we said it we really meant it. But the detailed lists went awol, the gifts purchased early were forgotten and have now re-emerged to make us seem the most generous of givers when more than was intended is handed over, thereby making the recipient feel somewhat shamefaced by their perfectly adequate gift to us.

In past years I have escaped much of this stress and anxiety because I have been gainfully employed twice daily throughout December in the gaudy glitter of pantomime.

Being available to assist has proved much more stressful than the familiar territory of fairies, villains and inappropriate pop songs being sung by scantily clad young men in caves in Arabia.

I have just returned from a panicked dash to get something that we both thought the other had already got for someone whom we are seeing today. There will doubtless be others.

Someone will turn up on Christmas Eve, hand delivering the most enormous and generous gift for whom we have nothing to offer in return, unless we rip the label of someone else’s gift and postpone the inevitable.

And to be blunt, there are only so many tins of Quality Street, Cadbury Heroes, Celebrations and Roses that one can amass without fearing ending up like Terry Jones’ exploding gourmand in Monty Python.

I suspect many of those tins get passed on to other lucky recipients. My wife once received a gift from a friend bearing the original tag wishing the donor a happy Christmas from her niece.

We rather liked that and of course shared the joy with the hapless friend.

Happy Christmas All.