Christmas crisis

By Laura Carpenter

November has barely begun and I'm already thinking about Christmas, and the ensuing burden of seasonal debt that is sure to follow.

I do love the festive period, it's great to have the family together and on good form, but each year I find it increasingly difficult to balance the books and keep face with presents. The pressure of having to buy presents for the family, provide a meal that tops each previous year and to fork out for the endless organised festive drinks parties has already got me counting the pennies like Ebenezer Scrooge.

With mortgage payments to make, heating bills to cover and an elderly mother to nurse through another winter, the last thing I need is the additional dent in my finances a trip to Argos will bring.

I'm dreading taking to the pavements post-work with all the other last-minute Christmas shoppers, all frantically searching for the best gifts at the lowest prices. Now my kids aren't too demanding, and now they are older will be happy with a pair of socks or an ironic tie – it's the godchildren, nephews, nieces, secret Santa recipients and close friends that I'm most worried about.

Trying to explain to a seven-year-old princess that "Auntie Laura" hasn't got enough money to buy the Barbie Dreamhouse she had so been hoping for - and that her parents had suggested as an option - is a difficult task. And after last year's fiasco when I bought the wrong colour My Little Pony, its one her parents are unwilling to face.

I don't want to embarrass anyone by turning round a few days before Christmas and saying: "I'm terribly sorry, I can't afford to buy a gift for you daughter this year, but I'll be round on Boxing day as usual." Aside from the inevitable feelings of resentment that they've bought gifts for my kids for the last 20 years or so, there's the point that they've organised this for mum, or done that when dad was alive. It's such a minefield, and on thinking about it further I'd rather fall behind with one month's mortgage payment than risk the fallout of upsetting a pre-teen at Christmas time.

I can picture the scene now of all the family gathered round the tree presenting elaborately-wrapped gift, after elaborately-wrapped gift to people wearing matching jumpers and fixed smiles. At times like these I dread my turn and usually sit, sipping sherry, willing my relatives to at least be civil when opening my presents.

Maybe if I start now I could make Barbie Dreamhouse out of sticky-back plastic and cereal boxes before Christmas Eve. Failing that I could just whip out the credit card and make do.