The 'buche de Noel', or yule log, originated on the Continent, but the custom of burning it in the depths of winter spread to Wales during the nineteenth century. Said to have originatedin pagan times, it was considered lucky to keep a piece from one year to the next, tohold on to good luck. Sometimes the log would burn from Christmas Eve into Christmas night, depending on the size and hardness of the wood.

Emma has a wood burning stove and it can easily burn 10 of logs a day. I'd be happy to come across a log that burnt for more than a few hours in that roaring inferno. (I declare aninterest in the stove, because I often light it up for my own enjoyment when my daughter and family are due back from a shopping trip. As they also have central heating, it is not strictly necessary for heat but it appeals to something primaeval in me).

Emma has stacks of logs in the garden but frogs have made their home under some of them. Fortunately, thepine, sycamore and ash trees that were cut down last January in my gardenare now seasoned enough to burn and, I swear it's true, they are better than any that can be bought from the 'log man'.

I sat down last night to watch television and there was a programme about things to make for Christmas.Candles twinkled everywhere and a log fire sparked in the grate.Among the things made were teddy bears (reckon on a full day to complete a tiny one,) chutney, Christmas cardsand a Christmas log.

The log mixture containedchocolate and was smothered in cream and dusted in icing sugar (confectioners sugar in America, I believe). It was all hard work and I speak from the heart.

One Christmas, I made Russian fish pie for Christmas Eve supper. (Cod and parsley in a creamy sauce, with chopped boiled eggs, topped with puff pastry). Emma and Kate (teenagers at the time) said they were going out to celebrate. Peter was not hungry so I ate the pie myself.

For Christmas Day I had mixed cranberries and grated apple into a bought mincemeat mixture (best quality) and placed daubs of the mix into filo pastry nests, no lids, so that they were not too heavy. Yes, you guessed who ate them, me.

When the girls were younger I bought them enamelling kits and candle making kits one year. I spent Christmas afternoon in the kitchen alone,enamelling and candle-making.

At last, I have learnt to give everyonemoney. I'm not mercenary but it's what everyone likes. It meansspending money if you aresurfing inMoroccoand ski-ing in Val d'Iser (Harry and Oliver).Money hastens you on your way tothe Boxing Day Sales (Emma and Kate). Everyone gets what they want because they choose what they want. No longer do I buy something to see it reduced on the 26th.

Yes, moneytakes you to places that home-made teddies and love can't. (The Kings knew this: they gave gold).

As for food, no one's hungry in our house on Christmas Day so I buy everything ready prepared. ( I wasn't born with the word 'Martyr' stamped on my forehead as Betty Friedian might have said.)

I've slogged all year makingfresh food for each meal and if any one doesn't like it on Christmas Day, tough.

So, Merry Christmas and Nadolig Llawen, everyone. Leave the glue and glitter to someone else and I'll try not to scorch my new outfit by the log fire.