This week Sedbergh Town Band finally performed its Christmas concert, which had been postponed due to freezing weather.

The junior band, who also played, get better every year, aided by tuition from members of the senior band, in particular Carole Marsden, musician, vicar and superwoman.

Getting back to the band, the concert had to be held in the United Reformed Church instead of the People's Hall, which is booked every Thursday evening for dog training – and, it being Christmas, the dogs were having a Christmas party.

This conjured up a Disney-like picture in my imagination of dogs in party hats enjoying a few bowls of shandy, while sitting around the tree, howling in harmony to Silent Night, and squabbling over the treats.

By now, most of you will have put the sprouts on, the turkey will be stuffed to within an inch of its bottom and your tree will be shedding its needles.

Meanwhile, the shops will be haunted by men with puzzled expressions who have left their shopping on the short side.

There they are, shuffling around, all wondering what to buy their partners on Christmas Eve as they rifle through the half-price bins examining battered boxes of chocolates – and they wonder why they only get socks.

My husband Keith and his brother Kevin have been discussing what to buy for our tandem. After all, it's been so good this year. They decided that it needed a new set of gears, a chain and brake pads.

Lucky old tandem. I wonder what I'll get in my stocking?

Thinking of pressies, I've had some odd ones in the past.

Among them, a set of saucepans, a whisk and, best of all, a pair of lame knee-high socks. I never got round to wearing them.

Now, all that remains is for me to wish you and your furry companions merry jollifications. Buon Natale (Italian). Heri za Krismasi (Swahili). Ho ho ho!