I'm serving up birthday cake after festive lunch

For me, there is just something about the autumn.

It's when the nights start to creep in, when the trees start to turn from glorious green to rich red, when the candles are lit and the twinkly lights finally get switched on.

I also get little pangs of excitement.

I know it's still ages away but it means that winter will soon be upon us and Christmas is on its way.

Now don't get me wrong. I am the first to join the chorus of disapproval when I head for the supermarket and the shelves are already laden with stuff for Christmas — everything except the turkey – and it's only just October.

And I am definitely not desperate to see which jumper my hubbie has bought me this year.

It's not about the tree or the decorations, nor the fact that I can eat an entire tin of chocolates in an afternoon and no one bats an eyelid.

No, it's the very fact that, for me and my family, it is a very special time of year. (And by jove, it is also hugely expensive.)

My two little ones were both born in December.

It wasn't meant to be that way. One of the Dunn juniors was expected to arrive on November 30.

Good, I said at the time, plenty of time to left do the Christmas shopping after baby (yes I know, very näive!)

I also made the rash decision of working as late as I possibly could, but even two weeks before my due date, I was the size of a small elephant with ankles to match. Time out, I said.

But oh no, this little one wanted to wait just a little bit longer. Two extra weeks to be precise. At 40 weeks plus 13 days, said my hospital notes. I can still remember phone call after phone call – 'Have you had that baby yet...? Er, no."

Well you can by now imagine what size I was. I think even the largest maternity clothes were rupturing at the seams.

However, I was determined to do my Christmas shopping before he/she arrived regardless of a) size of ankles, or b) size of rest of me.

And I can still remember the looks of total pity as I waddled around laden with bags of Christmas shopping.

However, I said, the show must go on (and to be quite honest, I thought walking up and down might make the little so-and-so head for the exit.) No such luck.

Anyway to cut a long story short (it involved a 26 hour labour, I could go on), baby Dunn arrived in the world two weeks late and weighing a whopping 10lbs 8.5ozs. Ouch!

It was December, all wintry and special. There was even a choir singing Christmas carols on the maternity ward. Christmas that year was really special.

Then four years later baby number two arrived – this time before the due date – but again in December and with just days to spare until Christmas Day. And yes you've guessed it more choirs singing carols.

So you see for me winter, December, Christmas, is special. It reminds me of two of the best days of my life.

My home, for the best part of a month, is stuffed full of balloons, Christmas decorations, birthday cake and Christmas cake. Birthdays merge into Christmas. December is one big birthday, Christmas mess.

But best of all it is stuffed full of family and friends. Laughter and joy. And quite frankly you can't get better than that.

Roll on Christmas . . .

By Claire Dunn