It was approximately 1am on December 10, 2019, I stood in an operating theatre of an NHS hospital with my wife attached to monitors and medical teams working flat out in an attempt to safely deliver our new born son.
We are in the sweet spot. The stress of the election is over, the worry of food shortages can't kick in till next year even if they are real, so now we have Christmas. It's time to eat, drink and be merry.
As Autumn turns the trees to an oxidised red and the leaves drop to the ground like the end of Adam and Eve's date night, we all know what happens next. Our hopes of a Sunday morning lie-in are ruined by some fussy neighbour and their leaf blower.