I gave in this year and acquired an elf – a girl elf with long eye lashes. I bought her from souq.com, thinking the 8-day delivery estimate would take care of a fair portion of the month. Of course, she turned up almost overnight by courier from the North Pole.

Son2, in particular, is enamoured. He named her Chelsea, and if anyone touches her during the day, his eyes grow as wide as saucers and his face freezes. For those not familiar with this growing holiday tradition, there’s just one rule to follow: Don’t touch the scout elf or the magic might disappear.

A major meltdown is only narrowly averted with a crooked smile and a few reassuring words that all is well with our villainous invader. 

While moving the darn elf around every night quickly becomes a little tiresome, I must say I do love seeing my kids’ reaction to Chelsea’s latest antics – especially as our visit to Santa this year was a rather comedic experience.

I should have known as soon as I saw the lack of queue. We were ushered through a flimsy red curtain by a jauntily dressed woman-elf with promotional flyers, and inside I steered a suddenly shy Son2 a little closer to the skinniest Santa I’ve ever seen.

“Will you find us in England?” Son2 asks after requesting something totally left field.

Dark-skinned, skinny Santa looks confused for a moment. Perspiration beads his forehead and his eyes go round.”Erm, yes,” he mumbles. “If I can get a flight.”

BUT SANTA YOU HAVE A SLEIGH!!!

Ho, hum. I’ll leave you with some snaps of Chelsea. Just two more nights to go.