My slow descent into festive induced madness.

It's that time of year again. Shopping centres are packed with anxious bargain hunters clutching letters they saved from being sent to the polar bears in the North Pole, windows are alight with harsh florescent bulbs in festive shapes- WHICH ARE NEVER SET ON STATIC, and every song ever played anywhere you go comes with a complimentary dollop of cheese and an abundance of prepubescent choir boys.
The countdown to bankruptcy and overdosing on seasonal sugary treats has begun.
My underwear would be well and truly ablaze if I were to say I'm not utterly in love with it.

Maybe it's the constant expectation of a miraculous snowfall, perhaps it's that gorgeous rush of warmth pouring over you when stepping indoors and escaping the bitter cold, or hell it's probably still just the child inside of me anticipating ripping open that wrapping paper on Christmas Day. (Although I feel I must admit as I've gotten older I now have the annoying habit of tentatively peeling off sellotape and neatly folding the paper into a tottering pile, "just in case we use it again". But of course, who ever does..)

Regardless of the reasons behind it, the Christmas season is when I am in my element. If you're familiar with The OC, you could say it's when I transform even more into Mr Seth Cohen. His array of bold festive sweaters jumpers, the fact he composes a hymn set to Death Cab For Cutie's song A Lack of Colour, his overwhelming enthusiasm when attempting to persuade his less than willing family to join in with raising festive cheer.. He embodies everything I want to be when it comes to December's celebrations.

This could explain why, about a fortnight ago, I was having what could only be explained as a minor breakdown - due to the fact I couldn't remember whether the majority of our LED lights were 'warm white' or 'cool white'. (Believe me, there's a difference.) It could also explain why I've already bought my gift paper in bulk, along with a multitude of tags and bows and confetti, and started stocking up on candy canes. I've also invested in two beautifully-scented festive candles (of the stupidly expensive Yankee variety obviously), and a new doormat for the household, adorned with a cheerful Santa accompanied by a majestic snowman. Even the delivery of these hefty packages at half past seven in the morning from our poor postman can plaster a smile on my face for the rest of the day.

This frankly obsessive behaviour may seem charming and quirky in print, but having what can only be explained as an extensive case of Christmas Fever is taking its toll. My family and bank balance are both nearing exhaustion. I'm frequently in a panic over the price of gifts, how many gifts to buy, if I have enough cards to hand out to my new college friends, how soon Tesco are going to scrap their special offer on After Eights, if I can ever find baubles the exact same shade of aubergine as our wallpaper..

My mind is a mess, cornered by decorative sprigs of holly.

Still, I know that once that truly magical day draws near, my frantic planning will be worth it. As long as I spend the Eve watching Nightmare Before Christmas whilst getting some last minute wrapping done, I'll be content. As long as my sister and mother have a smile on their faces when opening their presents on the morning of the 25th, I'll be stupidly satisfied. As long as I get to continue the long standing tradition of watching A Charlie Brown Christmas at my fathers (both the original and the dub by the Scrubs cast), I'll be positively giddy. As long as I'm handed a beautifully overflowing plate of food while sitting and watching The Flint Street Nativity with my beautiful family, I will truly be one of the happiest ladies on the planet. In the end it all culminates to that. Spending a glorious day eating yourself silly with those folk you love most. And hopefully if there's any food left you'll continue well into the New Year. I certainly plan to.

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28 SLEEPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!