I'm sure most of us need and crave our personal space. To me, some time alone is as important as precious time spent with family and friends. I'm certainly not a loner, but since retiring I've realised just how much I appreciate a little time all to myself, preferably in my own surroundings. Sadly, it's a rare occasion I ever get any. Mental claustraphobia is as bad as the physical equivalent.

I may have mentioned a few (hundred) times before my hubby is not an outgoing, social animal and prefers his armchair and television to people outside of the family circle. Since we gave up work at the same time it has become a problem of ever-increasing proportions for me. He cannot understand my need to be alone and refuses to make any effort to improve the situation. Sometimes the thought I'll never spend one evening alone in my home for the rest of my days sends me into panic mode. But you know me, never one to complain.

The only respite I ever get are his intermittent rounds of golf, but as they start in the early hours of the morning and I don't, it's not the best of solutions. Besides, as winter approaches, many games are cancelled due to inclement weather. Being a fair weather golfer in England means a lot of cancellations.

No, my only escape is to go out. I take a lot of walks, visit my dad, go to the local shops and meet with friends and much as it's not ideal, it's the best on offer. Wednesday is my favourite day, when I board a train with friends for a whole day and evening in the city of Nottingham. We shop and drop, have lots of laughs then finish off with a pub meal and vino. I look forward to it.

This week the city seemed incredibly crowded and very much unlike the way we expect it to be. There were queues outside the doors of one shop holding a Penny Bazaar and bodies battling at the counter of another offering a ten per cent discount. On arrival at the town centre Market Square we were confronted by knee deep crowds awaiting the official switching on of the Humbug lights.

Turkeys, puddings, elves, crackers and fairies batted around on skateboards while Santas Ho Ho Ho'd in every shop doorway. Vulgar coloured lights assaulted our eyeballs from all angles and the scent of mulled wine and cinnamon filled the air. Carols in the right ear; Humbug Hip Hop in the left. It was all we could do to fight our way through the crowds to slump down in our favourite pub and have a good grump.

What are we coming to? It's the middle of November for God's sake. Five more weeks of this and I really may be tempted to leave the planet, if I could find a way. I know about being stuck between a rock and a hard place, trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea, but it seems I'm sandwiched between Hubby and Humbug. Something I really don't relish. Want fries with that?