As Christmas approaches, it may be tempting to panic but don't let yourself be swayed by consumer cons.

The countdown to Christmas starts here! Well actually, no it doesn't. They're trying to panic us, aren't they? Everywhere I turn, there are people telling me what to do, what to cook, what to buy. They are whipping up such a frenzy that I feel I have to rush out and start cramming tinsel and turkey and a hundred electronic gadgets into my shopping bags right NOW.

There are lists giving me tasks for each day between now and the 25th. Other people tell me I have to have an Action Plan, a Timetable, a Checklist.

Well yes, of course Christmas takes some planning but it's one day, not a six-month military campaign. Of course, if you have a house full of visitors from babies to grandparents, it's going to take some working out.

But believe me, you do not have to spend this evening spraying fir cones with silver paint to make your own garlands for the staircase.

The lists - printed in the guise of helping you - in fact just screw up the tension a few more notches and make you feel you should be doing more, which actually, you probably shouldn't. Even those of us who think we're in control feel that maybe we should be dashing out, doing something, anything, as long as it involves spending money - which is exactly the plan. The lists are largely written by glossy girls in glossy magazines whose wages are paid for by advertisers. Their entire reason for living is to get us out there in a panic, flinging money around, while carols blast from the speakers in a bid to brainwash us into submission.

Until in the end, we just sob pitifully and totter round thrusting our credit cards towards a till, any till.

Resist the temptation. Relax. Avoid all lists, except your own - it could save you a lot of time, temper and, above all, money.

THE number of children killed by speeding motorists has plummeted in recent years. It's down by half to around 60 children a year. Still far too many, of course, but a definite improvement.

Experts put the improved figures down to speed cameras and traffic bumps, though it's just as likely to be the fact that parents are too frightened to let their children anywhere near a road on their own. So they are chauffeured to school and spend their free time in front of a television or computer.

And as a result, they end up getting too fat and suffering all sorts of life-shortening diseases.

Survival of the fittest used to mean being able to find enough food to live and keeping out of the way of predatory animals. Now it means avoiding fast cars, sugary snacks and double grease-burgers.

HELP! Many parents are still supporting their children - or certainly giving them a great deal of financial help - when those children are in their forties.

Forties? Yes, really. Doesn't bear thinking about, does it? Presumably, those forty-somethings could also be supporting their twenty something children who may, of course, have children of their own.

If our pensions are already going to be barely enough to support us, how on earth will they stretch to supporting three generations? Or will we still be working when we're 100 to put our great grandchildren through college?

NO, please no. The BBC is apparently planning giant outdoor television screens in city centres, so you'll be able to stand in the street and watch the football, or EastEnders.

Heaven forbid.

Bad enough that we have muzak blasting at us from every side and mobile phones trilling all around - not to mention at this time of year awful, appalling, sickly Christmas carols coming over supermarket speakers - without giant televisions as well.

Whatever happened to the sound of silence?

THE cistern in the downstairs loo was already leaking and rotting the carpet. Then the washing machine decided to stop working. It just sat there, full of dirty, soapy water, not doing anything, just sulking. And as I bent down to look at it, I felt a drip, drip, drip on my head - the shower upstairs was leaking and water was coming through the ceiling. I love my husband dearly but in my next life, I'm definitely going to marry a plumber.

SO now Ferenc Gaspar has paid £320,000 for Concorde's nose cone, just what do you think he's going to do with it? Flag pole, ash tray, umbrella stand, mousetrap, bollard, rhubarb forcer?

Bet it ends up in the attic with the broken chair and that awful picture from auntie