‘Dearly beloved friends and family, well, what a year it’s been! Where to start?! The big event for us – aside from nurturing our preternaturally gifted children and enjoying multiple holidays in exotic locations – was the “K” for Rupert in the King’s Birthday Honours list. Mingling with the Beckhams at Buck House after the investiture was an experience we won’t forget in a hurry!!! Meanwhile, Sarah’s novel about Thucydides is doing rather well in the Kindle charts and Agatha, Mungo and Antigone continue to impress…’

A few years ago, by this point in Advent, many Spectator readers would have received a pile of similar missives tucked into Christmas cards. Usually destined to stoke the fire or swell the recycling, the ‘round robin’ or annual Christmas family newsletter and the curious combo of rage and hilarity they elicited in the recipient was once such a seasonal staple that the late Simon Hoggart compiled a whole volume of the most eye-rolling, contributed by readers of his Guardian column. Each December I dip into The Christmas Letters (2007) when I need perking up in the face of festive admin, then put my copy in the spare room for visitors to savour.

The format rarely varied and ran thus: brief handwringing over current geopolitical situation, prompting profound insights in the sender as to their own blessings.

Next: a tone-deaf non sequitur into a smug rundown of their children’s achievements. Extra props here to the sender if Agatha has passed Grade VIII (‘with distinction, to no one’s surprise!’) on an instrument played by........

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