A bit of glamour never did a girl any harm and this new year, I had a rare chance to really dress up.

Christmas, all in all, has been a bit flat this year, what with our internet going down for a whole month, one party on Christmas Eve being cancelled, and myself coming down with a cold on Boxing Day, and thus unable to go to a second, so it was nice to get an invite for New Year, if only to remember what other people looked like.

I enjoy frocking up, as it's such a change from my gumboot life, which is normally spent in jeans and sweaters. But the requirement for 'ballgown', along with the knowledge that the ballroom itself might have no heating at all, while the dining room would probably be sweltering, certainly meant getting my thinking cap on.

My normal evening attire is pretty easy - since most of our socialising involves dinner with friends or an occasional dinner in a restaurant, I tend to go for a skirt, dress or pants in black wool or velvet, coupled with an interesting top. But 'ballgown' is another matter.

Galloping to the rescue came a vintage dress I bought last year from Ebay without any idea of when I'd actually wear it - a fabulous thing in tooled blue irridescent lurex. It's totally over the top, but how many opportunities does a girl get to doll up with some real sparkle in the course of a year? 

More importantly, it was also a: roomy, so I could get serious thermals on under it, and b: princess-seamed, so there was no waistband - nothing's worse when you're sitting down to a seven-course gourmet meal than to find yourself sliced neatly in half. As you might guess from my red nose, the temperature was an issue, but luckily, only I needed to know that under my dress and warm shrug was also a long slip, fleece-lined tights, thermal socks and knee-length boots.

All the other girls looked splendid, I must say - H in her black lace 50s gown and pink shrug, looking like a Dresden shepherdess; a fashion designer in a vintage 70s green gown and wrap; and even two friends in identical 30-style black and white draped halterneck gowns, exhibiting considerable cleavage (brave indeed for women in their 50s, but one was so perishing cold that I ended up lending her my wrap for the evening).

Oh la, back to normality...today it's the usual ski thermals, poloneck sweater, gilet and Uggs. Time to pack the girlie frocks away until next Christmas...

After the excesses of Christmas, it's been a relief - and a necessity - to get back to eating normally.

Our Christmas turned out remarkably festive in the end, but four parties in eight days is a long chalk from our normal practice, and the late nights and overeating (and drinking) that accompanied it left us feeling totally exhausted. It was all very lovely, of course, and we thoroughly enjoyed it, but it was time to get to get back to our normal routine. 

It began on Christmas Eve with a gourmet dinner at a friend's. S is a cordon bleu cook and for her, a few nibbles is usually a five-courser that would intimidate the most accomplished cook (amuse bouche of iced tomato coulis with avocado foam and blackcurrants, etc - you get the drift). Christmas dinner was amuse-bouche, foie gras, lamb cutlets with game chips, then pears, vanilla gateaux and creme anglaise.

So adroit is she in her little kitchen that I feel nervous at the idea of having her over, as we eat very simply, and focus mainly on vegetables and starches. Yesterday, for instance, my main meal was a simple concoction of steamed spinach, shaved Cheddar and cherry tomatoes. It barely constitutes a meal at all.

On Boxing Day we had another slap-up meal at the daughter of the above cook (and an equally good cook herself), which was based - as is the French taste - primarily on meat. Smoked salmon and caviar for the amuse-bouche, duck as the starter, great hunks of beef for the main course.

It was all fabulous, especially the orange and tomato sauce for the meat, but this is more meat than we would normally eat in three or four days, all in one meal, and it was at this point that my digestion began to protest. Our hostess lacks a freezer, so we took home the leftovers and this week they did us six more helpings with the addition of copious amounts of veg, finishing up as a curry soup last night.

Our own party on the 28th was the Black and White affair, so the foods were mostly based on caviar, black olives, white cheese and the like. Everybody brought a dish, and I had done enough food for an army, so the next day we gave away the greater part of the salads to a visiting family with six children, and lived for the next three days on leftovers: blinis, choux puffs, coleslaw, celeri remoulade, potato salad, brownies and licorice. A balanced diet this is not.

New Year's Eve was the tipping point for me. I am just not used to these multiple late-night finishes, or so much food, and I normally wilt at 10.00. After snacking on amuse-bouche and champagne all evening, we began to eat in earnest at 10.30pm and by the time we'd finished our main course, it was 2.00am. At this point, I had to concede defeat, so we left to cries of wimpishness. Our undaunted friends finished at 5.00am, got up early and headed for the coast for the day - snow and ice notwithstanding. 

Since New Year, therefore, the DH and I have given our systems some time off - especially from the booze, as I am getting too old to spend every day with a hangover - and have tried to return to our normal habits. This means croissants and coffee for breakfast, a light main meal with lots of veg at lunch, soup or a roll in the evening, meat no more than once a day, a vegetarian day mid-week, and a litre of wine per week rather than aperitifs, champagne, wine and digestifs every day.

The chocolates sent from Yorkshire have all been consumed, the posh biscuits and cakes are nearly all gone, and finally, finally my poor liver can come out of hiding. 

Since I have five minutes to spare, thought I'd settle down for a pre-Christmas blog.

Most of us are having a bit of trouble getting in the festive mood, however. All over this area, people's heating systems have been breaking down. One friend has no kitchen heat while another has no hot water either.

Back in Blighty, my sister's new electric fire has finally arrived, after many delays, and the packaging has shifted and she can't get it open to install it. No snuggling round the woodburner for her, then, but rather a chilly Christmas, as she has no radiator in the room where this stove is supposed to go. Nor does she now think she will be able to make her trip to Germany after Christmas, as planned.

The Christmas parcel she sent me (one of three) arrived damaged and with some of the contents missing. No sign of the other two parcels, and this is the second damaged package in two days (when the post resumed). Since my sister wraps things tighter than Fort Knox, I am a tad surprised, but must assume that French Customs or someone enjoyed my tasty Christmas present of traditional English sweets from the covered market in Doncaster. 

Having been snowed in, here in rural France, for the past week, we are also feeling a tad fed-up with it now. In normal circumstances, I wouldn't mind, but being unable to walk very much, following multiple small surgeries, having infected stitches that needed removal urgently, all of my cats being ill with a virus and not being able to get any antibiotics, etc, the timing might have been better.

We have pulled one cat through the worst of her illness, we hope, but another now has an infected eye and there's no way we can get him the 23km to the vet in this snow and fog. We have antibiotic drops for him, and will have to hope for the best until hopefully the snow thaws tomorrow or the next day. 

The Black and White party that we planned for the 18th, for about 40 people, had to be cancelled because of the snow. We rescheduled it for the 20th and had to cancel again because of the ice - 16 people, including us, couldn't get out of their courtyards. We've now rescheduled for the 28th and just have to hope that the weather will break enough for people to get here. If not, we will officially call it quits and try to do something in the spring. 

And meanwhile, I am starting a nice cough, which I am hoping against hope won't lead to my usual bout of winter bronchitis. 

Still, yesterday, in the brief hiatus between black ice and a new snowfall, and after four hours of laying down branches, sand, straw, bitumen felt and carpet (none of which worked), we did at least manage to get out of our courtyard and I was able to get to the doctor, so we also did our Christmas shop. Foie gras, brioche, smoked salmon, leg of lamb with trimmings, raspberry mousse log, chocolates and Bailey's might go some way towards cheering us up.

And provided we stay put and wrapped up warm, let us hope that now, all will be well!

It's not often that the party season in the run-up to Christmas co-incides with a useful trend for those of us in mid-life, but this year there is one - the 'statement' dress. 

What it really means is a dress with a busy print - think 1950s headscarf, preferably with some black in the pattern. 

Cocktail hour can become a lot easier in a print like this, disguising lumps and bumps and the roll of fat where your shapewear runs out. And with every high street store stocking dresses like the above (which range between £28 and £70), in every style and shape, it won't break the bank either.

The styles may be reminiscent of the 50s but there is also a distinct 80s look to a lot of the prints - I remember (very fondly) wearing such a dress, in purple viscose satin, to a disco back in 1981, so if any of you have something lurking at the back of the wardrobe, now might be the time to get it out. Even if you can no longer get into it, you can at least shock your offspring. 

For those not bold enough to go the whole hog and wear such a busy print in a dress, it also works well in a blouse with a black velvet skirt or pants, or failing all else, get down to a charity or vintage dress shop and pick up a busy, busy scarf to tie around a bag handle, or buy a length of fabric to use as a stole.  

I must confess to feeling terribly unfestive at the moment.

It's mainly worry about the future, given the economic crisis, which is now keeping me awake from about 4.00 onwards (thank you pre-menopause).

I know, I shouldn't complain, as although we are self-employed and therefore precarious, we are better off than some - at least we have no mortgage hanging over us.  Or even two mortgages, like some of my friends who were advised to buy to let and are now watching money disappear down the drain at twice the speed. Or like another friend whose bank has called in her business loan without warning because of the Madoff scandal. Or another, whose company is down to two-day-a-week working in order to avoid layoffs - neatly slicing off three-fifths of the family income.

However, it can feel a bit unChristmassy generally when you live in the countryside because you're not surrounded by reminders such as tinsel and lights. There's not much in the way of lights or decorations in our local villages - at least not during the day (too expensive). You really need to be near a town for access to that kind of thing and since most of us are seriously economising on presents this year, we're avoiding the temptation of going shopping and all those pretty, enticing windows. 

I went to the supermarket the other day and even that was almost empty of people - normally at this time of year it's packed (I notice too the reappearance of beggars, which I haven't seen for 12 years, since the last recession).

The economy clearly needs some sort of boost. Today I was reading about Milton Freedman's joke idea of dropping money out of helicopters to get people spending. Might work, actually, especially if the notes were time-critical. If someone gave me 500 euros right now and said I had to spend it in a week, I wouldn't have any trouble doing so. In fact I could get the economy moving single-handed!

I've managed to get the tree up at least. The French tend to do this earlier than the Brits, many of whom remain superstitious about the '12 days'. And we're eating Stollen already, though we've put away our Christmas chocolates and mince pies to begin on Saturday - the start of Christmas week - so that we don't get TOO fat and porky over the holidays. 

Anyway, I think we'll do the 'ville illumines' circuit in a day or two and try to get ourselves more in the mood. It can be really beautiful on a clear night. And maybe a Christmas market for some pain d'epice and ginger bread.

Right, off to deck the halls with boughs of holly. If I can find any holly that is. It might have to be cornus this year, but at least it is loaded with beautiful red berries. And maybe put the Christmas Oratorio on the stereo - a bit of Bach might do the trick nicely.