I always look forward to putting up the Christmas tree and decorations. This is always done far too early – at the end of November – what can I say, I like Christmas. One thing I like equally as much as unpacking the artificial tree from its box – where it had rested, in the garage for the previous 11 months – is disassembling it, come New Year.

It is always exciting when the tree first goes up, and the fibre-optic lights make the whole house seem festive and warm. Once Christmas Day has passed, I rarely bother to turn them on. The tree sits in the corner of the room, looking sorry for its self. Once January arrives, the tree, along with all the other decorations, seems annoying.

This afternoon, I unplugged the tree, before wresting with its plastic frame and branches, so it would come apart into its two or three sections, allowing me to force it into the incredibly small cardboard box, which it originally came in. The box has to then be sealed, to stop the tree bursting out. It is as if the tree has a mind of its own and instead of wanting to go into a dark, damp garage until the end of November, would rather stay in the house, where it is warm, bright and homely. I don’t blame it. But you have to remember, it is a tree – an artificial tree, at that – and trees don’t live in houses. People live in houses. People, dogs and cats – except in our house it is just the former, as we’re not allowed pets.

The Christmas tree is now locked in its box. The decorations and all the other festive crap, which one month ago I thought were cute, are in a pile, waiting to go in another box, which will also be placed in the garage. The last After Eight of the season has been eaten (although I think there may be a second box in a cupboard) and all the generally rubbish Christmas television has been viewed and deleted from the Sky box.

Christmas is over. For another 11 or so months. Thank goodness.