It was fictional, I loved and identified with the overworked and socially pressured Mum as the main character. In fairness, as my precious moppets grew older and more feral, the grandparents’ discussions about what was happening at Christmas turned more in favour of the festivities happening somewhere, anywhere else, rather than coming to them.

Sims is the author of Why Mummy Drinks which was the Sunday Times Fiction Bestseller of 2017, Why Mummy Swears published in 2018, and Why Mummy Doesn't Give A **** published in 2019.And you might enjoy a spot of festive crafting with me,’ I retorted, trying to suppress the memories of that dreadful salt-dough night, because obviously I couldn’t back down now. I only wanted a piss and maybe a bath without someone hammering on the door demanding things from me. because Jane frolicking on fucking ski slopes instead of in my frosty fields was very much not part of my Festive Vision, but I knew of course that one cannot behave like that when one is a parent.

I can see from other reviews that the adventures of Ellen and her lot ring true with many other mums - I don't have children and still managed to enjoy the story and laugh on many occasions. Because I have dreamed for years of changing out of my palazzo pants into a cashmere jumper and going to the pub on Christmas Day! Maybe I’ll drop out of university and go from Verbier straight to Ibiza and join Persephone as a bloody shot girl. She’d walked out on him over ten years ago when he tried to introduce a ‘sister wife’ to their relationship in the form of a mad rich American who’d been foolish enough to come to the ‘alternative retreat’ that they ran in Scotland, and therefore Louisa, Bardo and the six troll-pig children would also be spending a delightful Christmas en famille, in their yurt. The children had always loved Christmas too, and I was determined that I’d be making it extra special for them when they came home for this fabulous family Christmas.Which meant more often than not that they came to us, for the Christmas Vision and the unopened pickled beetroot.

I mean, I didn’t really want Jane to marry Rafferty – apart from anything else, my grandchildren would probably end up with even more ridiculous names than my niece and nephew, Persephone and Gulliver – but if she did, at least I could rest easy that she’d do well out of the divorce settlement, even if it wasn’t fair that stupid rich Rafferty’s stupid rich parents were spoiling my perfect Christmas with their STUPID RICHNESS, the bastards, because how could it possibly be Christmas without Jane, my baby girl? Her first book, Why Mummy Drinks, was the bestselling hardback fiction debut of 2017, spending over six months in the top ten of the Sunday Times bestsellers chart, and was shortlisted for Debut Novel of the Year in the British Book Awards. This would be the year when everyone’s dreams would come true: the children would frolic, my carefully chosen gifts would be received with rapturous expressions on rosy-cheeked faces, I’d bear the bronzed and gleaming turkey to the table on some sort of (yet to be sourced) Golden Platter to stunned Oohs! However, on the bright side, in the interests of economy and the environment, it is fewer flights to be undertaken, thereby improving your bank balance, my carbon footprint and the plight of the polar bears. The book group liked the diary format of 'Why Mummy Drinks', comparing it to 'The Diary of Adrian Mole', but this time with a 39 year old (equally irritating and confused) mum.And my own sister Jessica inevitably was quicker off the mark than me in coming up with an excuse as to why they couldn’t possibly host Christmas, generally due to her being far too Busy and Important. I knew I should have put a kirby grip in, like Lucy Worsley, and then he wouldn’t have any excuse to do things like that. There were hundreds of people to be fed and diplomatic negotiations to tiptoe through, and Louisa’s glass to be kept topped up, because she is marginally more bearable drunk than sober, and Jessica’s OCD to be managed and Geoffrey to be kept away from Natalia lest he either made a pass at her or racist comments or both.