The one and only blessing of the recent festivities is that finally they are over.

Why the devil do we do it? Probably the brainchild of some Franciscan monk with more mead than sense.

Why does every family enjoy a blinking good row at the annual get together? For goodness sake it's nothing short of lunacy! Why do we need a "get together" anyway?

Adult children, their partners, grandchildren and all the other hangers on descend on you like a flock of avaricious magpies.

Eat, drink and be merry!

And do they mean it! In a matter of days you've been eaten out of house and home. The booze cabinet looks like Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard. "Got to stock up again," leers the ever troublesome middle son. "Yes," I quietly agreed, thinking your body parts will do for a start!

Christmas Day opens with the usual travesty ritualistic present opening.

I always make sure that the reject and return bags occupy prime positions.

"Got one, don't need that, don't want that, whatever were you thinking of? What a waste of money," my monologue grinds on. The best present I ever got was the wrapping paper – and that took some doing!

Whoever invented board games deserves to be taken out and shot. "Come on – time for (yet another) game of Carcassonne!"

Discovered hiding under the bed. I'm gleefully told that the game does not have either an opt out or a veto card.

There's nothing for it. I plead an upset tummy and my body language is so convincing that very quickly the vote swings in my favour. Excused for the duration.

Breaking point eventually comes. It's all the fault of the wicked witch. She sent the invitations so she must pay the penalty!

New Year's Eve she departed on a re-stocking mission to the great God Tesco taking my car and wallet without so much as a by your leave. Vengeance is mine!

Pursuing in her beat up banger I find my pride and joy parked in a mother and baby slot. Typical!

Mother and couldn't give a jot more like!

A set of spare keys return it to its rightful owner. Her banger is left at the other end of the car park visible only to a yellow peril!

A short while later to my utter bewilderment I find the police on the phone.

"Absolutely not officer! I simply can't think what she's incoherently rambling on about. She's escaped from the hospital again! How did she get out this time?"

Peace at last! Visiting is restricted to 30 minutes. Not even time enough to get the pieces out for Carcassonne! No point going then is there?

I know one thing. This year at the annual pre-Christmas caucuses, I'll be voting with the turkeys!