Who can believe that it’s December? All the usual clichés – where has the time gone, the summer seems like yesterday.

So here we are again, faced with the task of buying presents for people who don’t need anything. For me, the big event of Christmas is the school play.

This year is my 10th year of school Christmas performances. You may note that I can’t call them all nativity plays as it would seem that some years the connection to the festive period has been tenuous. Three boys, 22 chances for a starring role and never a Joseph. What’s going on? Every November, I try to play it cool when the mention of the plays filters back home. Every year I put on my best poker face as the slip comes home asking for a costume to be sent in for a tree/turkey/dog/star or such like. There was a year where I watched the over zealous mother of the starring role mouth along with all the words. Doubtless the costumes that are sent in by these uber-mum’s would hold their own at the National Theatre, unlike my offerings which tend to take a more abstract look... Whatever happened to the days of a threadbare dressing gown and a tea towel tied to your head by an old dog lead? Amazon has a lot to answer for. This year, the youngest Rees, Charlie, has been given the part of the third innkeeper. Those not so familiar with the nativity may not realise that this is actually a pivotal role.

Joseph: Do you have any room in your inn. My wife is about to have a baby?

Innkeeper NUMBER 3: No we are full, but I do have a stable you can use.

Despite my suggestion there was an opportunity to change the course of the play, and indeed history over the last 2000 years, Charlie is far too rule abiding to change his line to: ‘Yes, of course I do. An en suite one with a lovely double bed and a birthing pool. The only thing is, no animals or visitors allowed.’ And I thought I was raising free thinkers with a rebellious streak. I have yet to establish which part my middle son Jack has, although from the costume I’ve sent in of a black top and black leggings I would hazard a guess we may well have a Christmas ninja in the family. Son number one, William, is missing his play because of my sister’s wedding. Little did I realise that after the previous nine years of nativity apathy culminating in his acting highlight of fourth star, this was his time to shine and he is now missing out on a potential primary school Oscar. What a dreadful mother I am.

School plays normally follow the same format. There will almost certainly be a child crying within 30 seconds with stage fright and a couple who find the contents of their nose more interesting than the drama. There is usually a child who sings out of tune at the top of their voice and provides some amusement for the parents. Doubtless, there will be a child who has yet to discover the word ‘over-acting’ and has probably had drama coaching to become the role of the angel Gabriel. Half the stage will spend most of their time waving to their parents and there usually needs to be a plentiful supply of tissues available to mop up the rivers of tears from the audience.

Despite all this, a school Christmas play is the very essence of this time of year. Teachers must spend hours practicing, rehearsing and making props, and behalf of all us parents, I thank you. Thank you for the opportunity to beam with pride and for the material to rib them with when they get older. Thank you, because if I’ve sat through 22, you lot must have sat through thousands. Perhaps next year a Joseph though?
 

John Lewis have got it so wrong with this year’s Christmas advert. I confess I don’t get the sleepy bear, rabbit, alarm clock connection because to me, nothing says Christmas like a five-year-old with a string of tinsel around their head and a slightly snotty nose singing ‘Away in a manger.’ That’s given me an idea for next year’s John Lewis campaign starring innkeeper number three and the Christmas ninja. Anyone know a good agent?