Now my kids and grandkids all know that I love them, but these are the thoughts that enter a slumbering mind when it is covering itself with the blankets and trying to stave off the start of another day. And they are still stuck in there now, so I have to offload.

And then there have been a number of people this year who have suggested that we are miserable curmudgeons for not buying any presents for our dog. What?! He’s a greyhound. That means he’s bone idle, and if we want to sleep in till 10 or later, he’ll take that with gratitude, and still be snoring when we fall down the stairs for breakfast. So now you want us to fill him with the Christmas spirit and have him careering round the house at four in the morning ripping apart his stocking looking for goodies? Like kids do? you want us to encourage excitement in our house? Hey, I’ve been through that. I’ve earned the right not to do it any more. We have a mature Christmas here. It starts late, and is kept mellow with Drambuie and fine dessert wines, chocolate truffles and gingers, silly Santa films that make you cry.

Fun and kids? That’s for young folk. Like government and the future. Leave us oldies out of it. We’re past it.