Happy Christmas

Just as those terrified soldiers in the first world war trenches found the inspiration to carve little works of art out of wood while the world was falling apart around them - so I have found that in the midst of my personal battle, this Christmas has turned out to be one of great peace and joy.

Perhaps a little melodramatic in terms of analogy - but letting go of all expectations has meant that I have appreciated every minute in a way I haven't before and after a slightly shaky start I found that I felt very glad to be me and exactly where I am, despite everything.

On Saturday night I put on my hair and a sparkly frock for Nick and Pippa's party and managed to transform myself into something resembling my old self. The au pair did an enormous double take when she saw me coming down the stairs and kept looking at me incredulously while muttering things like 'Incroyable' and 'c'est magnifique!'. I remain eternally grateful to the Look Good Feel Better crew for that wonderful session where I learnt to colour myself in - it felt really good to be wearing something other than my cosy Gap joggers and a floppy top.

I spent a thoroughly enjoyable evening trying to sing Xmas carols over those who had been at the Arsenal victory match against Tottenham that same afternoon - you know who you are!!! - and chatting to lots of people I know well and I couple I don't know at all - which was wonderfully liberating as they had no idea that everything they were looking at was fake and the conversation did not hinge around my health and wellbeing. I even forgot about it for a while which is always a relief. In true cinderella style I left before midnight and changed back into a slug.

My poor parents arrived on Sunday laden with food after reading my last blog and evidently prepared for a siege - and Francois took both kids to Harrods for essentials such as foie gras and macaroons from La Duree.

Mass on Xmas Eve was so beautiful and I only cried once which I thought was quite impressive really. The wobble came on the way out as I watched everyone making their way home to their families and I was overcome with jealousy and self pity that they were all going home to a cancer free Christmas and I was not - but after a stern talking to from myself and my very sensible husband, I pulled myself together and had that much anticipated glass of champagne along with some incredibly good smoked salmon and a little slice of foie gras - and the moment was gone.

My sister and I both share the ridiculous habit of waking up hours before the children on Christmas day and waiting for them to get up - so I was watching TV and drinking tea from about 6am when I heard them stir at around 8.30. I had to charge back to bed so they wouldn't suspect it was me eating the mince pie and the carrot. Such a baby...

They were, of course, utterly and completely spoilt - more so this year than usual - largely due to my inept internet shopping which went into chair leg mode as I kept forgetting what I'd got and then trying to even up presents so one didn't have more than the other. They loved everything and Luc kept running around declaring that he 'loved his life' - how easily his affections can be bought!

I cooked probably the simplest Xmas lunch I have ever made but one of the most delicious - - and my galley slaves obediently did all the clearing up while I had a two hour sleep in the afternoon and the kids watched a DVD. The glass of wine at lunchtime completely finished me off after these months of abstinence.

On Boxing Day, Francois' sister, her husband, her three grown up kids, and the wife of the eldest, plus her parents arrived so we had 14 for lunch. Instead of panicking and running round trying to make sure everything was perfect I did little more than to put the leftovers on the table accompanied by a couple of salads and some super simple puddings I'd made at the weekend. Everyone was on good form, no one fell out, no plates were thrown, no adult burst into tears and apart from getting locked into Clissold Park and having to climb over the fence to get out, the whole day went without a hitch.

Francois is pleased that we have not a shred of turkey left and only one slice of ham remains.

This Christmas has taught me that living in the moment is far more worthwhile than dwelling on a past I cannot change or a future that hasn't happened.