It’s Over. Can we get back to normal now ? I need a rest. The build up to the festive period was frantic.

Joining the throng of shoppers in the city centre was not exactly filled with Christmas cheer, tempers were fraught, credit cards were taking a bashing and the season of goodwill it was not.

How many doors got slammed in my face by egocentric Ebeneezers too self absorbed to look out for fellow shoppers? Too many! I did cause my own rumpus as at every store I visited I unintentionally set off the security alarm, entering and leaving. One confused shop assistant, eager to solve the enigma of the involuntary raucous siren took my satsuma orange clutch bag and caressed it, convinced it may have a small tag inside it.

No conclusion was reached and I continue to be a shop assistant’s nightmare…. I set them off, I can’t help it. The second period of difficulty came in the butchers, with the weight and breed of the large breasted bird.

Bronze, free range, barn reared. As long as it had a happy life I didn’t care too deeply about what colour its feathers were. I was more concerned with the merit of its ample breasts – would it satisfy my husband, brother, son and mum. I asked how large my mother’s birds were when we were being reared in the country. “At least 24 pounders” was her reply. Having discussed the proportions of our bird, my husband and I made a decision - 18 pounds… ample for four adults, two children and four dogs. It’s tradition you see, the dogs always get a Christmas meal, turkey, chipolatas, gravy, the odd sprout.

Talking of the dogs, my brother’s Bassett hound has a reputation which goes before him. I was dreading his arrival. If he gets the slightest whiff of food, he’s off. Within the past 12 months alone he has raided four family picnics, stolen countless sandwiches by launching himself into the air to snatch food from the mouths of strangers, was found inside a pub kitchen in Weymouth making a beeline for a cooked 8oz sirloin steak and seized two dozen Aberdeen Angus burgers from a family barbecue in a park, leaving parents and children tearful and hungry. So too has keeping the abundance of festive food from the jaws of Mr Smith been a challenge. There was a dog-proof cordon around the turkey which had a chaperone at all times apart from when it was in the oven.

Despite the difficulties; despite the odd family disagreement; despite the fact that I won the game of monopoly fair and square for the first time ever by making some good business decisions to my brother’s discontent; despite the involuntary setting off of every security alarm within Oxfordshire;despite the fact we have only just finished the leftovers; despite the challenges of a bassett with a one track mind, Christmas was a success in Chipping Norton! It was our daughter’s first and although she won’t remember the madness and the over indulgence, we were all together as a family. So back to routine.

Here’s to 2014. I wish you a happy and prosperous (albeit late) New Year.