Christmas day is a marathon, not a sprint! One minute you’re drinking Prosecco at 6am (it’s socially acceptable on Christmas day) and watching children idyllically tearing open presents….. the next minute there is a queue for the bathroom, the turkey needs to go in the oven and for the 97th time, no, ‘I don’t know where the batteries are’!!

Maybe it’s the early morning drink, but suddenly time seems to go at light speed and before you know it, guests start arriving and you are still wearing your pajamas. Then someone breezes in looking like this…