This is not a list of presents to buy; he only ever had one per year (for me) and it caused him such annual anguish I relieved him of the burden, and bought my own – usually something we could both enjoy.

This is a list of tasks about the house I would like completed by Christmas. As each task is completed, it is crossed off the list.

It read, in part:

- Fix flyscreens back and front.

Zahli demolished the cat-flap on the back door by chasing Thistle out via it and crashing after him; and went to greet my brother Barney at the front sliding fly screen door, not realising it was there, and jumped through it into his arms, a surprise for them both.

- Tidy up walls and ceiling in living room

The Moth split some of the panels when he knocked two rooms into one; I tend to notice them when I’m lying flat on the floor doing Yoga relaxation, and find myself worrying that the ceiling will collapse on me, which is counterproductive.

- Complete landscaping in front garden

The Moth constructed a new garden path from palettes he rescued from a building site. The gaps between the slats are such that Thistle can disappear between them, and I fear bits of  me might too.

- Figure out why the bathroom pongs

An earthy smell, combined with the unmistakable tang of underlying sewage, occasionally permeates our bathroom, and cannot be altogether overwhelmed with air fresheners; the scent of the latter is so powerful I catch whiffs of it when I am working in the garden. But when I go back into the bathroom, I can still detect the pong. I suspect it has something to do with our septic system, the workings of which are a mystery to me and occasionally to the Moth too. 

The list goes on; some items have been crossed off, but that is merely because I grew tired of waiting and got to them first.

I planted the bean and corn seed that had been sitting on the side for weeks before Spring was entirely over. I did not rake the beds so that they were as fine as flour, or mark each row with string tied between pegs, artfully marked with the packet, as the Moth would have done, thereby preventing my planting other seeds over the top of them. They were in the ground and that would have to do.

I cleaned the windows, a couple a day, until they were all done. I have no doubt, looking at my smeary results, that the Moth will do them all again, probably in one tenth the time, using a bucket of water with some vinegar in it and a pile of old newspapers to buff them into gleaming clarity.

I took carpet cleaning off the list. Zahli decorated the carpet liberally for a fortnight before she was house-trained; her playmate, Chloe, who visits once a week, also leaves puddles everywhere.

Spot cleaning patches of dog urine is only partly successful, because they always seem to be a different colour from the rest of the carpet; but better than the Moth’s method, which is to get the carpet soaker out.

This is a vacuum cleaner with an added facility to ‘wash’ carpets. He takes endless pains with it, spending half a day in the process. The result is a boggy carpet that takes weeks to dry, and when it does, the dog urine patches rise miraculously to the surface again.

I managed to book a professional carpet cleaner for the week before Christmas; timing is crucial, and I want the carpet to remain clean for at least the holiday period.

So I feel I have done my share towards ticking items off the Moth’s list; I do have my own list, which includes Christmas shopping for gifts and provisions for a large family, as well as making the house ready for inundation.

And I feel for the Moth, who has his own priorities and would much rather be out at Rocky Hall, sorting out solar panels, water pipes and his roof renovation.

But were he to complete even half of his list I would feel I had received a very large Christmas gift.