ALL I want for Christmas is… a pot of strawberry jam. And so began my daughter’s letter to Santa this year.

Of course, there were some other items on her lovingly-crafted scroll to Father C – a Zhu Zhu hamster and a game for her DS.

Hopefully, Santa will have room for them on his sleigh tonight as he travels the world making little ones’ dreams come true.

It’s not just children who will wake up full of expectation tomorrow morning – adults are just as capable of losing their heads amid the holly, tinsel and fairy lights.

Many of us carry a Christmas-card image of the big day in our minds – smiling families gathered around a roaring fire; a glistening bird with all the trimmings displayed upon a tastefully decorated table; carol singers with gaslights singing on the doorstep as the snow falls… Well, okay, I’m getting a bit carried away, but you get my drift.

All too often, though, Christmas doesn’t go quite according to plan. That perfect present you hoped you’d receive from your nearest and dearest turns out to be anything but. I never thought I’d be outdone on the disappointing-present front having one year unwrapped a tablecloth from my hubby. Then last year my mate got a potato sack.

Alcohol and families are prominent ingredients of any Christmas day – but truly, never the twain should meet. Tensions that simmer away all year can spectacularly boil over after one too many glasses of Harvey’s Bristol Cream.

And that’s before you’ve prepared a Brussels sprout or had a chance to burn the chipolatas.

It takes the peacekeeping skills of a diplomat and the culinary knack of a Nigel or Nigella to pull off Christmas Day without a hitch.

So to anyone preparing to take on the big task tomorrow, I wish you well.

Let’s hope we can muddle through with a smile.


ONE of the best things about being the host at Christmas is that once the meal is over you can put your feet up – and someone else will do the dishes.

Which is some consolation – particularly when you consider the news that women spend 5,445 hours at the kitchen sink during their adult lives.

Imagine that – 90 whole days with our hands in Marigolds.

As a 42-year-old mum in York, I was horrified to read that the people who spend the most time of all at the kitchen sink are – yes, you’ve guessed it, 42-year-old mothers in Yorkshire.

Which got me thinking about all those hours – all 5,445 of them.

Have you heard of the 10,000-Hour Rule? Scientists have shown this is the optimum amount of time a person has to spend to master a skill.

Ten thousand hours to become an expert in anything you choose. Imagine that: you could learn Japanese; take up the sax; start tennis lessons. Anything is possible.

And surely better than all those hours doing the dishes.


WHEN better to try something new than the start of another year.

New Year’s Resolutions are like the proverbial Marmite – some of us love ’em, others hate ’em.

I’m firmly in the first camp and welcome the opportunity to set a goal. The hardest part, of course, is seeing it through.

The key, I’ve discovered, is to settle on something that is achievable, and one you really wish to conquer. It doesn’t have to be particularly big or life-changing; sometimes small achievements give us the most satisfaction.

My resolutions for this year are the perfect example. I hate porridge yet vowed to start eating it. I put off the dreaded moment and didn’t make my first bowl until last week. It was disgusting and I had to tell myself I’ll never be a porridge eater. My other resolutions were more successful: to try out social networking (I’ve joined Facebook and Twitter); improve my backhand at tennis (tick) and have more people over for dinner (not really, but will be making up for it over the next week).

I’m already drawing up my list for 2011.

Tune in 12 months from now to see how I fare.