Nothing gives me Christmas cheer like Louis, our cherubic geezer-prince – oh and some decorative sex mucus

OK, it’s been a tricky 12 months, so whilst I sign off until 2019, let’s finish with some silver linings to this “annus horribilis”, as the queen would say.

For starters, Meghan and Harry’s wedding was great. The sun shone, she looked gorgeous, he looked handsome and the bit where he and his brother walked to the church together made me sob uncontrollably.

For a brief moment in May, this country, with its flowers and horses and hats, looked like it knew what it was doing. And while we’re on the subject of the royals cheering us up, let’s not forget that Kate Cambridge gave us baby number three: hello Prince Louis, who is the most geezer-looking of all babies and makes me laugh every time I see his little face.

Reasons to be cheerful number two: the summer, which went on like a proper summer from a story-book. Endless blistering days and open-window nights, the delicious whiff of barbecued dinners and the slap of flip-flops on baking pavements.

For weeks the UK felt like the Mediterranean and the only thing that spoilt it was the knowledge that one day it would be over.

Number three was good sportsmanship. I couldn’t care less about football but there’s something about the World Cup that makes even my footie-averse head swivel screenwards. What was great about this year’s competition was that it created a hero, not in the shape of a hulking young player, but in the pipe-cleaner-thin Gareth Southgate, who for a few glorious weeks stirred the embers of English optimism and made us dare to hope. Of course it all came crashing down and we finished in fourth place, but for a while it was wonderful, and the humble waistcoat had a very special moment.

Number four: really nice people on reality TV programmes. Hooray for the celebs who just mucked in and got on with it – this year has seen the good guys competing on the small screen. Stacey Dooley and Emily Atack have both been a force for good for young women up and down the country; and this year’s Bake Off winner Rahul and runners up Kim-Joy and Ruby reminded us all that the nerds will one day inherit the earth – and the world will be a nicer place for it.

In fact, telly has been the nation’s biggest comfort blanket this year, the sofa providing refuge from the grimness of real life, uniting viewers whatever their political persuasion for a few hours now and again. So well done Bodyguard, Killing Eve, A Very English Scandal and The Crown season two – let’s be having more of your sort in the New Year.

Reason number five was the Thai boys’ cave rescue, this year’s biggest nail biter, with (almost) the happiest of endings. On 23 June, 12 young Thai footballers and their coach entered the Tham Luang Nang Non cave and were promptly trapped by rising floodwater. Nine days later, with the clock ticking and hope fading, two British divers, John Volanthen and Richard Stanton found the lads alive and the ensuing rescue mission kept us hyperventilating into brown paper bags. Tragically, navy seal Saman Kunan died during this incredibly dangerous task, but the coach and boys survived.

The joyous thing about this rescue was how experts from around the globe were involved in saving all those lives and how thrilling it felt to be part of it.

Feels good, doesn’t it, when the world unites? Let’s hope for a bit more of that next year.

I’ve been lamenting the standard of Xmas decorations over the past few weeks. Local shops in particular have been disappointing, with displays designed to be dismantled in seconds, leaving not a trace of tinsel or sequin behind. I’m sorry, but lobbing a big “peel-on-peel-off” sticker announcing that it’s “Xmas” does not a display make, and neither do the three poinsettias lined up in my solicitor’s office. Oh, and may I just add that glitter added to any living plant at this time of year should automatically incur a six-month prison sentence.

Happily, a trip to the West End restored my faith in top decorations, with Regent Street and the surrounding areas twinkling like the good ol’ days, before Brexit broke our dreams.

Years ago there was a house round the corner from where I lived that, come the first of December, would festoon a gigantic pair of “Merry Xmas” ladies’ knickers across their front room window, a glorious sight which never failed to make me feel festive. Regeneration of the area has put paid to this charming spectacle, so this year my award for London’s best Xmas display goes to the Tate Britain gallery for commissioning Turner Prize nominee Monster Chetwynd to do this year’s decorative honours.

Chetwynd’s installation features two huge illuminated leopard slugs crawling around the front of the building, leaving a massive trail of glittering sex mucus in their wake. Forget your reindeers and sleigh-bells – nothing shouts Xmas 2018 more than a pair of massive molluscs.