“Only 15 Sleeps to Christmas” the sign outside one of our local shops shrieked at me as I walked past today.  Oh good grief!  That means I should probably have posted the family’s gifts off to England weeks ago.  Now they might get them in time for Easter next year (if they’re lucky).  Sigh.

It’s no good . . . I really do have to ‘get with the programme’.  It’s not that I haven’t been thinking about how quickly Christmas is closing in on me, because I have.  (How could anyone not—with the constant bombardment of Christmas shopping and food catalogues, bouncing elves and those incessant Jingle-Bell ditties which have been playing in every supermarket and boutique since early November . . . how those poor shop assistants do not go into complete meltdown and start poking candy canes into customers’ eyes long before Christmas Day arrives is beyond me . . . )

However . . . as I was saying . . . I have (honestly) been giving some thought to the holiday season—albeit possibly only in the deep, dark recesses of my mind—and I do distinctly remember thinking about putting a Christmas List together way back in September . . . and then again in October . . .  and then reminding myself again in November that Christmas wasn’t all that far away . . .

What I try to do, of course, is buy potential Christmas gifts for friends and family throughout the year, wherever and whenever I see them—because I want to choose something a person will really, really like, rather than a last minute rushed ‘Oh my gosh this will do’ sort of present.  So when I see the perfect gift I buy it, put it aside, and by the time Christmas comes around I am then (hopefully) well ahead of the game. This makes perfect sense to me.

What doesn’t make so much sense, however, is that I always seem to pack these lovely purchases away and store them ‘somewhere safe’—and then promptly forget all about them!  Not only that, but when I do eventually come across them again (often after Christmas is long gone) I have usually forgotten who I bought them for in the first place, because, apparently, I also think my memory is good enough not to warrant the attachment of a quick post-it note with a name on it . . .

15 days.  Mmmmmm.  That’s okay.  I can do this.  There’s still plenty of time left to get everything done.  All I need is a plan . . .

So—from this weekend I am going to make a determined effort to ‘get into the spirit’ of it all.  I am going to drag out my Christmas decorations (kicking and screaming from their dusty boxes) and shooz up the house.  The girls will love that.  (Oh Oh. Thinking of the girls has just made me remember—Cinder is coming to stay this weekend.  Remember Cinder—the now six-month old cavoodle puppy who stayed with us back in September? She is a darling girl but there is such a thing as tempting fate.  A boisterous puppy, tinsel, and sparkly balls?  I mean . . .  what could possibly go wrong . . . )

I am also going to scour the house for buried treasures as there are bound to be all sorts of surprises hidden in the unlikeliest of places.  I might even score a couple of nice little pressies for myself . . . you know . . .  if earlier purchases are no longer needed, or inappropriate, or might look better on me . . .

Then I am going to finalise my ‘List’ (after I have started it of course).  I’ll wrap and tag what I found during my treasure hunt, decide on what I still need to buy (online shopping here I come) and then . . . if we are talking about getting into the Christmas Spirit—I might just have to finish the weekend off with a nice bottle of something red, along with an assortment of Christmas yummies (which I have been studiously avoiding until now but which really do need to be taste-tested before I could possibly send them out as gifts . . . I’m a good friend like that . . . )  

And then it will be Monday.

12 sleeps to Christmas.

No worries.

I have a plan.

She’ll be right . . .