Fiona and Fergus are chatting to customers, and Glenna and Gizmo are organising the queue to Santa’s sleigh, although Gizmo is arguably more popular than Santa himself. It’s the little elf outfit that does it – the stripy red and green jumper with fluffy white edges, complete with a tiny jingly hat, his own pointy ears sticking out through holes in the top, the hat moving every time his ears stand to attention. And while Noel’s pouring hot chocolates, he keeps whistling the tune from Gremlins to get his attention, delighting everyone nearby as Gizmo cocks his head from one side to the other every time he hears it. He’ll be viral before tonight given the amount of videos people have taken of him.

Iain and the two farmhands are spread out around the fields somewhere, cutting trees down and carrying them for customers. I stand in the driveway which is now lined with piles of netted trees and trees in pots arranged in size order from my tiny little thirty-centimetre tall ones to much larger six-foot ones. Some are flashing with fairylights and sparkling with tinsel for decorative purposes, but most are potted up for sale, and I’m watching the supply diminish fast. It’s going to be hard work after everybody leaves tonight to restock the ready-to-buy ones for tomorrow. There are wreaths hung up along the fences, and bunches of freshly cut mistletoe tied with ribbon dangling all around, and Noel’s made the most beautiful chalkboard signs and put them up at the junctions of the road on either end, and people just keep coming.

‘Well, this is a bit better than the ugly plastic thing in our loft,’ says a voice behind me.

‘Chelsea!’ I jump on her and Lewis catches us both. ‘I thought you weren’t coming unless it magically turned into a vineyard on the French Riviera.’

‘Couldn’t let my best friend’s opening day go unnoticed, could I?’ She hugs me back. ‘You can still send me a little one to test its survival in the post, but we’re not leaving without your finest Christmas tree. Lewis has even put the roof-rack on the car for it.’ She pulls away and holds me at arm’s length. ‘Why do you look so different? Your skin’s all glowing and you look so healthy and fit.’

‘Lugging Christmas trees around will do that to you.’

‘Or the healthy glow of love.’ She scouts around for my hot Scot pumpkin farmer, and I catch Noel’s eyes and beckon him over.

Fiona takes over making hot chocolates and manning the chestnut roaster, and Noel comes over carrying a cardboard tray of four hot chocolates for us.