At the point when I'd decided that Christmas spirit was running a bit thin on the ground, I met an angel.
I've got to be honest, I haven't been feeling very ho ho ho.
I've obviously had the standard cry at the new John Lewis advert.
Advent calendar, sans chocolate, opened.
Pictures of Nancy printed, ready to send to people we can't afford presents for.
But with just over two weeks to go, I haven't been feeling all that Christmassy.
And every time I venture into town, I'm met with an army of determined shoppers who don't open doors for you when you've got a pram anymore, cos they're on a mission.
Or willingly move out of the buggie spot on the bus cos they're sat there surrounded by bags of shopping.
Or, and this is just plain annoying, crowd the lift in Boots cos they're laden with presents, when there's a perfectly good set of escalators 2 seconds away.
To my embarrassment I gave the 'disappointed' head shake to a lift full of pramless shoppers the other day, only to have to queue with them for the best part of 20 minutes when I did eventually get to the right floor.
So after another unsuccessful shopping trip with an understandably frustrated Nancy, I wasn't surprised that things went nuclear when we got home.
But on closer inspection it turned out that it wasn't so much tears, as weeping eyes, and after a squizz at the NHS direct website, I was 99% certain that Nancy wasn't rubbing her eyes cos she was tired, but cos she had an eye infection.
Now, with near apocalyptic weather at the moment, and about 20 minutes until the doctor's shut, I strapped Nancy to me and pegged it down the street to the surgery at the bottom of the road.
The hot doctor confirmed that Nancy had conjunctivitis and we went to the pharmacist around the corner to get her drops.
The rain started to get a bit heavier, and then as we went into the health food shop for a look at stuff we can't afford and a sniff of goodness, the heavens opened.
I mean literally sheet rain.
Like you had a film of scum over your eyes and everything's in soft focus.
All out of ideas, and Nancy's bedtime creeping up, I though we were going to have to both get soaked to the skin and then risk Nancy getting a massive cold on top of her crusty eyes.
And then a customer in the shop said, 'I know that it's weird for strangers to offer you a lift, but can I drop you home?'
'No, it's fine, we'll be OK in a tick,' I Britishly muttered.
'I wouldn't normally ask, but you've got a baby, as have I, and you're going to get drenched.'
I told her where I lived, which was close, but not loads to her house. But completely unfazed, she assured me it was no problem.
And minutes later she dropped us right outside our flat. Gave me a wave, then bezzed off into the rain.
I didn't even catch her name. She just did something nice. Really nice. Because she was a nice person.
She made me want to be nicer.
Maybe next time the lift's full in Boots, I'll just let it go. Or not be so grumpy with the person sat in the pram part of the bus.
Cos let's be honest, when someone's nice to you, it can totally turn your day around.
The lady in the car made me want to be a better person.
I probably won't be.
But she made me think about being one.
And that's got to be a start.