So, as the holidays approach I've been thinking back over the years to try and come up with my best festive memory.
There are so many to choose from. As a child nothing came close to the excitement of waking up extra early on Christmas morning to find a stuffed stocking at the foot of my bed, creeping down the hall to my parents' room and sitting on their bed delightedly unwrapping gifts as they attempted to drag themselves into a state of consciousness to face the festivities ahead.
In my early twenties, working as a chalet girl in the French Alps, there was a magical quality to spending the Christmas period up in the mountains, despite having to prepare meals and look after my guests. When my duties were done and I could join my friends by an open fire to sip mulled wine and toast to the season while looking out of the window at a beautiful snowscape, I felt like one of the luckiest people alive.
And then there was the Christmas that my sweetheart chose to ask me to become his wife. We were in our first apartment, eating our turkey off a packing box because the furniture store had failed to deliver our dining table in time for the festive season. When he pulled out that Tacori box and showed me the ring I thought I would just burst.
More recently my Christmases have been lit by the smiles of my son as he discovers the magic of the festive season for himself. While these days I am the one wrapping the gifts and stuffing the stocking, I still find myself straining my ears for the sound of sleigh bells as Christmas Eve draws on. It's such a magical time of year and am excited to think there are so many memories still to be made.