A few decisions have been called for this week. Mainly relating to Christmas presents. And mainly relating to what to get for people I barely know at all (work secret santa) or people who already have everything (everyone else). Other serious decisions have involved selecting clothes to pack for my Christmas holiday (weather calls for chunky outdoorsy fleeces; vanity calls for something altogether more flattering). And contemplating the most photogenic toast topping for the obligatory run-up-to-Christmas Instagram fest. Contrary to popular belief, it isn’t avocado.

I flicked back in my diary to have a look at what I was thinking about this time last year. It seems I was similarly wrestling with a few festive decisions. But those decisions were more along the lines of whether to arrange anything for Christmas Day as I had chemo on Christmas Eve. And whether to go to any Christmas parties because of the risk of picking up an infection. Oh, and if I did go to any parties, whether to wear a hat indoors, because someone was bound to put photos on Facebook and I didn’t want anyone who didn’t already know seeing my shiny bald head online and finding out my cheery cancer tidings that way, a couple of days before Christmas. 

So, last year was admittedly somewhat trickier, but still, it’s been crunch time at a few points this week. I mean, I’m pretty much up there with Lord Sugar and the judges of Strictly with the difficult decisions. Just without the snake hips, or the £250K to invest, unfortunately.