We have a family tradition of writing down New Year’s resolutions every year and packing them away with the Christmas decorations. By the time next Christmas rolls around it is fascinating to read what we said then as usually it has been completely forgotten.

Yesterday when we decorated the tree and my husband read out the resolutions I had genuinely no idea what mine had been. So when he said, “And Mummy’s was – no wine in the week!” it was a real shock. It took me straight back into that miserable time of trying to moderate. And I remember feeling really proud of myself for making that resolution, in front of the family and everything, and then breaking it within days. It rocketed me into that place again and it was horrible.

My husband laughed, in an embarrassed, not knowing what to say way. My family all looked at me, waiting for me to say something. It was blindingly obvious that I hadn’t kept that resolution for the first ten months of the year, but that the usual ribbing wasn’t appropriate at all.

So I said, quietly, “Well, I’ve done pretty well in the last month, haven’t I?” And my son leapt in, “And you won’t be drinking on Christmas Day, will you, Mummy?” As if he was defending me. (Ok, yes, I am crying, typing this.) He has probably picked that fact up from conversations about who is giving elderly relatives lifts at Christmas.

And it was left there. No great declarations, no Serious Talk on the sofa about what and why and how long this might be for.

But I think I may have told my kids that I am not drinking any more.

I’d better do it then, hadn’t I?