Every year, I dread the approach of December. December means the "holiday season", schlocky Christmas music in every shop, and the enormous pressure of Christmas shopping. That's why I put it off until the last minute. I plan my shopping list well in advance, however, so that in the very last week, I can hit the shops all at once in a surgical strike. Get in, extract the items, and get out. Bam! It's over in an instant

I don't hate Christmas, but I do hate being pushed into the holidays before I'm ready. I push back, and let everything wait. It really does take a feat of willpower to reach the point where I actually clear space on the table and start to wrap everyone's gifts.

And then, a funny thing happens. As I fold and cut and tape, and write little "Merry Effing Christmas" labels, I catch myself whistling "Have a holly jolly Christmas". But I stop myself, because I seriously hate that tune and wish that the person who wrote it would be buried in an ant hill up to their necks with liquid sugar poured liberally over their wobbly bits, while playing that tune at full volume on a loop. In a shopping mall.

Not long after that, I notice myself humming "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and "Silent Night". Before I know it, I'm absolutely oozing with Christmas spirit, and what better time to pour a little Christmas brandy into a little mug or two. And after an hour or so of wrapping, humming, whistling, and pouring brandy down my throat, I strip down to my shorts, hang ornaments from my ears, and go caroling door-to-door at each pub I can find until a friendly police officer offers me a warm blanket and some handcuffs.

So I don't know why I have so much trouble starting the Christmas season. After all, it ends well, and they usually let me out in time for Christmas dinner.