This year I’m doing it properly. I’m going to every carol service. I’m watching a Christmas film every week. I’ve got actual twinkly lights inside and out.

Cancer feels like a memory. Apart from the insomnia, lung nodules, fatigue and morning sickness I can almost forget I’ve got it.

I love Christmas. I love the cheesy music, the rich food, the traditional carols, the days at home when you can’t remember what day it is. I love the nativities, the community events, the emerging traditions, the handmade decorations.

Two years ago I could hardly get off the sofa to hang a bauble. I somehow dodged Covid, seeing family before my mastectomy, hardly brave enough to make eye contact. Last year I felt in freefall while others discussed work parties and I downed laxatives.

I can’t lie. Mental health is an enormous struggle for me, despite my stable prognosis, creative outlets and gorgeous family. But I’m doing what I can to fix this. I’m listening to Buble in my reindeer pyjamas and am determined to simply have a wonderful time!