THE house looks magical. I've really gone to town this year with the tree and things.

And I am now officially one of those women who can shrug and say to fellow mums "w-e-e-l-l, it's for the kids", making a fair excuse for the fairy lights adorning the outside of the house, the 'Stop Here Santa' sign in the front garden and the Elvis Father Christmas that has taken up residence on the dining room table.

Before my son was born you would be right to describe our Christmas decorations as "minimalist and matching".

Friends and family would often comment, as they sipped crystal glasses of mulled wine and nibbled on smoked salmon canapes, how "Ideal Home" our house looked.

The tree would be dressed in a sea of twinkling white lights -- nothing else save for some sort of interesting piece of art work on the top bought from some little bijou art shop in Morocco.

There might have been a garland over the fireplace and a beautiful cranberry wreath on the front door.

Nothing else.

Simple, yet very effective.

And boring.

What a difference a child makes.

This year, it's Christmas a-go-go in our house.

From December 1 we've had Slade's Merry Christmas Everybody screaming out of the CD player.

As for the tree . . . well, I call it my "Quality Street" phase.

The decorations are gaudy to say the least -- neon pinks, blues, lime greens and purples. Yes really!

You too can find these in the shops if you look hard enough.

And the lights -- THOUSANDS of 'em. All twinkling like crazy. By about 10pm I need to lie down in a dark room.

Put the "piece de resistance" is the star atop this festive blancmange.

It's shocking pink and furry and very, very big.

Our pals can't believe the transformation.

But what fun for a two-year-old to find his living room transformed into his very own sparkling fairy grotto and his garden a magical landing pad for Santa and his reindeer.

And mulled wine tastes so much better when drunk out of the bottle.

Merry Christmas!