Twas the month before Christmas and all through the Department Store the bustle was horrendous. The elves claimed cystitis for extra toilet breaks and Santa number three said we shouldn't talk smack about the place, lest management were listening.

My name is Kerry Hudson and I'm no poet but I was once a Christmas elf at what is arguably the UK's most luxurious department store, Harrods.

What possessed me, you might ask? Well, it wasn't so I could dine out on the story every December for the next 20 years, or that it might provide me content for a nice seasonal column right about now.

In fact, I was newly in love and, having quit university, I was saving for a trip around the world while living with my schizophrenic father in a one-bedroom flat provided by an addiction charity – as long as he stayed clean.

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I was desperate to make as much money as I could, to get as far away as I could, for as long as I could. At the time I was an aspiring actress and so found my jobs in the classified section of The Stage newspaper where companies searched for nubile, desperate wannabes with ‘bubbly’ personalities who would do anything that might resemble acting.

That’s how I ended up in the corporate offices opposite Harrods (connected to the store by underground tunnels…) singing Jingle Bells at my job interview. It turns out that I can pipe out a pretty decent tune because I was........

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