Worst. Christmas. Ever.

Married and with a baby, Tania Edwards thought it was high time she hosted the family festivities. But chaos was coming…

- Tania Edwards

As a family we always managed to avoid festive disasters. When our dog was seen running towards the woods with a Christmas turkey in his teeth, our turkey was still in the fridge.

But a couple of years ago, in my thirties and newly married, I realised it was my turn to host Christmas. I thought I was ready. Sure, no one can deck out a 90-foot tree like my mother, but I wanted to try. I’ve inherited her excesses. Before we were married, I smuggled a whole Iberico ham across London to surprise Sanj because I knew he liked prosciutto. He looked horrified, and clearly had no idea how to house half a pig in his bachelor pad, but I couldn’t have been more pleased with myself.

What I didn’t have a grip on were the Christmas basics. I had no idea about the careful planning that makes it all look easy. If I’m honest, I was distracted. We had a new baby. And there were a few other things that promised to make this first Christmas together tricky. Specifically, our house wasn’t habitable. As the completion date pushed past October, I was a woman possessed, determined to make it happen.