Did I do Christmas right?

If I am not writing cards to every neighbour in my street,

Remembering names, adding children and sometimes forgetting

A visiting girlfriend, after decorating the tree the weekend before Christmas,

Then I am not doing it right. If I am not sending Christmas emails

To friends until 4am three days in a row in between shopping for supplies

And putting up lights, right up to Christmas Eve, then I am not doing it right.

If on Christmas Eve I am not preparing enough vegetables and meat

For eighteen people when we are only seven – calculating each cooking time

For the sake of synchronicity – because I want to live on leftovers

Until well into the New Year, then I am not doing it right.

If the meal is not forty minutes late because I stopped for two glasses

Of champagne with guests and dropped a pint of cream on the kitchen floor

So that I had to get the huskies in to manage the mess,

Then I am not doing it right. If I am not soaking baking trays,

Clearing up Christmas dishes and hand-washing glasses late into the night

With a box of chocolates by my side, then I am not doing it right.

If I am not swollen-legged, footsore and confident that I have earned

A lie-in until three hours after sun-up, then I am not doing it right.

Only when I say “yes” to a lift in an Aston Martin for a lunch overlooking

Lake Vyrnwy on Boxing Day, do I feel that Christmas is done.