At the beginning of December 2005 Suzi said,’ I want a real Christmas tree.’ On Western Road, between the Duke of Norfolk and the Biscuit Factory, was a fruit and veg shop that had trees for sale. They were on the pavement and the one we bought was about 3 feet high. ‘The pot’s very heavy’, I said. ‘Will we take a taxi?’ Her answer? Well let’s just say she held the portion of the tree where the fairy would eventually go while I grappled with its heavy, muscle-tearing base. On our uphill climb it made contact with the pavement innumerable times. My forehead glistened with perspiration. I knew what would happen and it did.

Later that day the tree – thanks to Suzi – was beautifully decorated. For most of the next three weeks – thanks to Suzi – I was in agony. Or was it because I hadn’t done the right thing, and put my foot down and said I wanted it chauffer-driven to our flat? After all, I’d done the right thing earlier in the summer… One Saturday morning, while we were walking into town along Upper North Street, it started. Or should I say, it erupted. The pain was so intense I could barely walk. ‘You should see a chiropractioner’, said Suzi. ‘You should have seen one years ago!’ On the following Monday I did. I knew it would probably cost the earth but I had a little earner along Lancing way. I worked in an office for a small family firm. The money went into the tills of pubs and cafes – and tip-trays it has to be said, but for now it would be re-directed to a health professional. With my sympathetic employers informed I’d be out of action for a week, I went ‘private’ for the first time in my life. The guy was good – every time I left his premises it was with a warm glow in the lumber region. He was worth every penny – or should I say pound, for over the next three or four weeks I must have parted with about 250 smackers.

I returned to work but it wasn’t to last. I was still fragile and sitting in a chair six hours a day wasn’t the best medicine. I re-negotiated my hours and went part-time. The lingering pain distracted me – I am easily distracted. My performance deteriorated and I sought an early bath. The firm was great. They were really lovely people, and if any of them are reading this, I hope they and the business are flourishing. (Suzi feels the same way. They took a shine to her on my interview day and offered her a job as well, but as far as she was concerned living with me was one thing, working with me quite another.) Along came the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness and I was in reasonable shape again …but ever-vulnerable to lifting excess loads. The condition’s genesis occurred in the 1990s when, desperate to see a chess match on my portable TV, I yanked up the box without bending my knees and spent the next week sleeping on the floor and requiring a walking-stick to get to the loo. Its 2005 Yuletide recurrence was to say the least unwelcome, and not only because it might interfere with seasonal merry-making: I needed an influx of beer money.

The day before purchasing the aforementioned green item I’d had a successful interview at a leading call centre in town and was due to begin work there on the first Monday of 2006. As Christmas day approached I was improving, but not sufficiently so to sit from 9-5. I phoned the company and the HR guy who’d interviewed me was fantastic: start when you’re ready. (Ironically, when I did so the first product I had to sell were ergonomic chairs!) Not that I sat on HR’s chairs for long. A different health issue was to bug me - but I’ll keep a lid on that one until 2012.

Goodness knows why, but the word ‘equivalence’ comes to mind. Periodically in Brighton I wasn’t in the best of shape. Sometimes the discomfort was excruciating. But when I look out of my window up here, at the cold and the snow and know what’s ahead, and then remember Suzi and I having mid-winter outdoor coffee at the Meeting Place and watching the sparkling Channel waves, I’ll take, any day of the week, backache in Brighton to heartache in Scotland.

Which is a tad unfair to our bonnie landscape. Just this morning we were out walking and the sight of snow on distant Perthshire peaks and above the Wallace Monument on our nearby Ochil Hills stopped us in our tracks. Yes it was cold and yes it was familiar: but it was breathtakingly beautiful.

I guess I should quit while I’m ahead. On that up-beat note, then, I’ll close the post, but not before saying that Suzi and I wish everyone in Brighton - and Hove actually - a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

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