Christmas Eve. My old nemesis. Here we are again for round 33.

I have a difficult relationship with Christmas, more so now as an adult. As a young child I enjoyed it enough. As I grew older I tolerated it, but less and less so as the years passed. A difficult relationship with your family will do that. My wife and her family celebrate Christmas very earnestly. My nephews and nieces are still at an age where Christmas is undoubtedly the most exciting day (read: extended period) of the year and so the day, rightly, revolves around the enjoyment they get out of it. I, frankly, could take it or leave it.

For the first time we've spent Christmas away from home - a few days at a rented house in Rhosneigr in North Wales. It is perfectly quaint, if bitterly cold by the sea. Olive has experienced her first taste of the beach and that was a hit.

My social battery has drained within 24 hours and I long for the steady peacefulness of home but I'll do my best to soldier through for H.

Unfortunately not even the cricket can distract me. England feebly sunk to 3-0 meaning Australia have retained the Ashes. It's been a disastrous tour. I was never hopeful and I think we foolishly underestimated the Aussies going into it. If January isn't dismal enough, the post-mortem of English cricket will certainly be the nail in the coffin.