It’s funny how you reach a certain stage in life where receiving Christmas presents ceases to be the most important thing about the holidays. Maybe it’s a sign of maturity, or maybe it’s to do with being a mum – because when you have kids Christmas is very much about them, not you. Of course I wouldn’t say no to a Nespresso machine and George Clooney (both giftwrapped, under the tree) but I’m really not that bothered about gifts.
If this year has taught me anything (or at least, reminded me, since I knew it anyway) it’s that the health and wellbeing of your family is the most important thing in the world; being with the ones you love on Christmas Day, knowing that your offspring are safe and protected, that’s all that really matters. All I want for Christmas is to be with the people I love most, warm and happy and watching Elf. Not a lot to ask, is it? (Preferably without any rows, but you know, we’re not the Waltons, so it’s important to be realistic *cough*.)