Arriving at my local supermarket for my usual bottle of milk and a Kit Kat, I was met by a wall of people who had apparently heard there was an imminent apocalypse.
Battling through the equivalent of a small tsunami, I eventually found a trolley and, at a somewhat shuffling pace, entered the store, only to find that it was twice as bad inside and there was literally nothing left on the shelves.
Then I realised that, despite it being 7am, these shoppers were preparing for the biggest event of the year – Christmas.
Like a plague of biblical locusts, they had swooped down on the trimmings aisle before, hunter-gatherer style, seeking the turkey crowns and matching cranberry sauce. Children's toys were rapidly sucked into the shopping equivalent of a black hole, wrapping paper was decimated (only One Direction rolls were left), while the wobbly Father Christmas models disappeared faster than if on a David Copperfield show.
Clutching my meagre shopping, I felt that overwhelming sense of panic that is only experienced by "those who have not bought their presents yet" because I have not sought out, purchased or dared to wrap anything.
It used to be, long ago when £3 per pressie was acceptable, that a pair of monogrammed handkerchiefs and a bath cube (usually from Boyes) was enough to raise a smile on my mum's face.
The children, when small, were content with a fluffy toy, pair of pyjamas and a selection box, topped off with an annual.
As a non-money giver (I like to buy presents that I think represent the people I am buying for), I usually have my gifts sourced and secured by the end of September, but this year, I am really struggling.
Partly because the only things in my purse are a curtain ring, a postage stamp and a shredded tissue but, in reality, I haven't got a clue what to buy!
I tentatively suggested to my mum that I buy a well or a goat to send to some poor family, but the idea was met with a stony silence.
I suggested I buy her a companion, perhaps a small dog for company (although I don't really believe in giving animals as presents), but the only response was a look that Medusa would have envied.
I asked my husband what he would like this year but, being a Yorkshire man, I got the non-committal shrug followed by the "don't need nowt" phrase, which translates into "I haven't got a clue as I'm relying on you to think of something good".
I contemplated not actually getting him anything (serve him right), although I know I would feel guilty for a long time.
Several people have asked me what I would like. After world peace, the mortgage paid off and a night with Ryan Reynolds, I really cannot think of anything, other than the usual expensive perfume or an Android tablet (hint, hint).
Actually, I am happy with anything. Roll on Christmas.
