We’ve done it. We’ve gone really early this year.

In that “is it too early to put the decorations up” debate, we’ve made the first move.

Our tree usually goes up around mid-December, the first weekend of the month at the earliest, but this year our tree is up, decorated and the lights are a-twinkling.

The fireplace is adorned with garlands and all we need now is a dusting of snow.

I love Christmas but I’m not quite sure how I feel about this early shout in November.

I was driving home last Wednesday and passed two houses with their lights on (yes, that’s more than a month before the big day) and I swore in disbelief.

But just a few days later, I was contemplating the same thing after I realised that our next few weekends are full with numerous get togethers and outings.

We faced either a last-minute dash to get everything sorted, or a more leisurely decking of the halls, albeit over a couple of days and well in advance.

As we’re also hosting the big fat lunch for our family on December 25, there’s plenty to do, so option two it was. The tree is up and looking fine but I can’t quite get round to switching on the lights outside.

At the moment, our indoor decs are our little secret (although not so secret now). The outdoor illuminations can at least stay off until next weekend, when the village panto gets its annual airing and I can pretend I’ve put them up especially for that.

But then why should I care? I’ve fairy lights up in my garden all summer, why should November feel neglected?

At least by Saturday I should be feeling a bit more festive, although somewhat under-rehearsed for my role as Gretal in Babes in the Wood (it’s a good job we’re allowed to read from our scripts).

And failing that, the mulled wine will be coming out. As if I need an excuse.