It’s 21:16. Just sat down having spent five or so hours laying rest to Christmas 2010. Cut up the Christmas tree, broke a hacksaw, pulled a muscle in my arm, got grumpy. It was a wonderful two weeks, though, mainly for the chance to spend lots of time with my amazing daughter. As a working parent I’m conditioned to feel guilty. Guilty for not “being there” 24/7, guilty for palming her off onto childcare for nine hours every day (at absurd expense). To spend a good chunk of time with her over what, for her, is a magical period is genuinely wonderful. Makes the stress, extravagance and expense of Christmas totally worth it. And it brings a tear to my eye when I think that it’ll be another 12 months until I get two weeks with her again. Modern life ain’t really set up for working parents.