YOU surely didn't think I would wait until you could hear Santa cursing as he squeezed his podge down your hot, sooty chimney before I mentioned the 'C' word, did you?

It's late. It's almost upon us. You can tell that by the tinsel on the telly and the glitter in the shop windows.

For weeks, the Argos catalogue has been the No1 bestseller for children. Strange how they are absorbed in a book and suddenly become literate as they make out their Christmas present lists, revising them a thousand times.

Me and mine are the worst Yuletide planners in the world. We know it comes round every year, and that it's some time in December, but it always takes us by surprise.

I know a chap who has had all his Christmas presents bought and wrapped since the January sales. He does not wear a red suit and drive a turbo-charged sleigh - he's just a tightwad.

Actually we spent the weekend rehearsing for Christmas. It was a big family birthday party in the Lake District and it reminded me of that big birthday in Bethlehem a couple of thousand years ago.

As there was no room at the inn-laws', we had to find a cowshed for the night. Just like Joseph and Mary, we spent hours on the Internet and on the mobile phones trying to find lodgings. There were vacancies but like that other tourist honeypot, York, they have this ridiculous policy of two-nights only. I hope they all finished up with empty beds.

You could tell it was almost Christmas in Ambleside because the place was heaving with people in shorts and T-shirts all looking in high-priced outdoor clothing shops or galleries displaying prints of mountains and lakes. That's all they have across there. No proper shops. No wonder all we ever get for Christmas from that neck of the woods is Kendal mint cake.

So the whole family was gathered for this celebration, the wine flowed and, as there was no one to do miracles with water, we had to keep going back to BoozeBusters to keep the festivities going.

Just like Christmas morning, the following day was one long round of holly-barbed hangovers and apologies for outrageous behaviour and unguarded comments. Talk about goodwill to all men.

Where's the magic of Christmas these days? When my daughter was growing up we had a cardboard template of a big boot print in which we would scatter talcum powder on the carpet making a set of 'snow' footprints from the door to the Christmas tree. If she noticed it did not melt, we said it was magic snow, and we always hoped she would not smell the perfume of Imperial Leather as we vacuumed it up later.

I was permanently scarred by Christmas when I was very young. I woke up early and excited one cold Christmas morn to find no presents. I went to my parents' room and the door was firmly closed. Inside I could hear screaming and finally a large, unkind woman opened the door and said "We're busy." She turned out to be something called a midwife and was busy 'delivering' my sister. Why couldn't she have simply posted her through the letter box with all the other presents?

There were complications - she turned out to be a 'blue' baby and somebody had tried to strangle her with something that sounded like an umbrella cord. My dad put me on the crossbar of his bike and we rushed off to find a doctor. Of course we had no phone and guess how pleased the doctor was to see us when he was just operating on a turkey.

I could not wait to see my little sister. I'd never seen a blue person before. What would the other children say when she started school and looked like a Biro refill?

See what I mean about planning? Surely my parents could have planned for a summer baby so that I got my presents on time. And imagine how my sister has cursed ever since because she only gets one set of presents for Christmas and birthday.

Updated: 09:06 Tuesday, November 02, 2004