HIMSELF made a very grave error this week. We were talking about the expense of Christmas in a bah humbug! moment.

I actually like Christmas, although it makes me a bit weepy. He doesn’t, but that’s possibly because he’s an accountant. Spending makes him emotional.

It all started very amicably with a general whinge on the lines of “What on earth do we buy mum, sister, daughter, son, dog?” Christmas cards, yes or no? Decorations, definitely yes, and finally a big sigh about the cost of it all.

And that’s when he came out with the statement which, had we been married, may have necessitated a trip to Relate.

“I never used to buy my ex-wife presents. I gave her money to spend in the sales,” he said all proud with himself. “After all, if you give a woman the cash she can buy what she wants, can’t she?”

I fumed inwardly for a good three seconds until I could be silent no more: “And you wonder why you’re divorced???” I barked.

He gave me THAT look. The one that says, “Don’t start, Loony Tunes!”, which added to my fury.

You see, he knows how I feel about Christmas presents because only the night before we’d been watching the TV advert where Myleene Klass is playing the piano in a cosy festive scene and a vacuum cleaner pops up.

“I think Myleene Klass would slam the piano lid on her bloke’s fingers if he gave her a vac for Christmas,” I said. So it’s not as if he hadn’t been warned.

“When partners can’t be bothered to think about and shop for a gift that will make their other half happy, then all’s lost,” I said dramatically, dragging my hand slowly across my jugular in a gesture signifying death.

“You may as well not bother making any effort for each other,” I continued. “I know, why don’t I stop washing my hair, wearing make-up and high heels because I sure as hell don’t do all that stuff for myself.” OK, so that was a little white lie. But if it was up to me, I would wear blokey brogues 24/7. Most women would.

“And while I’m at it, maybe I’ll give up cleaning and cooking too!”

His head was bowed in shame and with a look of utter despair on his face he said: “I’m really sorry, Diane. I didn’t think.” Then he reached down and picked up the Next Directory.

“Here, choose something nice for yourself out of there then?”