DID you manage to get through The Ordeal without smacking someone in the mouth - or wanting to?

If you did, you are awarded the rarely-given Peace And Goodwill To All Men Award. You are an angel and your wings and halo have been ordered over the Internet and will arrive in a few years.

Why does this supposedly wonderful occasion cause so much stress and rage? Probably because we spend so much time looking forward to it, the whole affair is one big letdown.

Robert Louis Stevenson was spot on when he said it was far better to travel hopefully than to arrive. We spend our lives looking forward to things and when we get there, they are so often a big disappointment.

Take Christmas. The girls at the supermarket tills were crabby, any attempt at humour was brushed off with a harrumph; the customers in the shops were in full combat gear determined to wipe out the enemy (rival shoppers); and they drove their cars like chariots heading into battle.

Christmas is like the North Star, guiding us brightly and cheerfully through the cold, dark days of the worst of winter. Until it gets here, that is. Then it becomes like an episode of EastEnders - you have to concentrate hard to see someone crack a smile.

As soon as it is over, we need something else to look forward to in our relentless pursuit of pleasure. Holidays, of course. That's the next thing. As soon as the Yuletide jingles fade for another year, the tempting holiday ads start to lure us to the travel agent. Then we can dream away the rest of the winter gloom.

It is around Christmas Eve when you hear the first mutters of "I'll be glad when it's all over." And it is after about three days at home that the long break seems endless and even the return to work seems inviting.

Was it a member of the family whose head you wanted to rip off, or was it a perfect stranger? Did you venture out into the world post-Christmas and try to do a bit of shopping - either for essential provisions to give your stuffed fridge another hernia, or to save some money in the sales?

If you were wise you left the car at home. The shop car parks are the place where the people teetering on the brink of sanity let loose those pent-up emotions.

Two cars do not go into one parking space, despite the number of times I've seen drivers try it this holiday. In some of the supermarkets one car does not go into one space. They are so small I'm beginning to think they are in league with the car body repair shops. Shop car parks are where most vehicles are damaged, by the way, not in motorway pile-ups. You can tell how often a person goes to the supermarket by the number of dents in his car doors.

But it helps if you and another driver don't lay simultaneous claims to the same spot. That's when tempers fray and people show off the new car horn they got for Christmas. If the other driver is smaller than him, the half-crazed motorist jumps out of his vehicle and sticks his face so close you want to tell him his nose hairs need trimming.

If you did find a parking space, then you were free to mingle in the carefree crowds. No matter how much was spent before, the shopping frenzy always continues before the turkey is digested.

This time though, it's war. There are bargains to be had. It's like giant, pedestrian dodgems, without the fairground staff there to keep the rules. You bounce off one crazed bargain hunter onto the next. You trip over baby buggies and glare at the idiots who make a sudden change of course without signalling.

You have a tug of war over the same item with the wicked witch you thought was a nice old gran and then you make a huge error of judgement when you join what you thought was the shortest queue at the check-out.

You get in a traffic jam to leave the car park, fume all the way home and then fall thankfully into the house you could not wait to leave hours earlier.

Anyway, did you have a good time? Yes, we did thank you. Ate and drank too much, though. Cheer up - only 360 days to Christmas.

Updated: 09:49 Tuesday, December 30, 2003