You certainly need a lot of love to adjust to those different ways of cleaning the house, who puts the bins out, how often you wash the bed linen. And when you bring a child into the equation there's a whole other can of worms to open up and rehouse.

The art of child-rearing is a complex one and everybody has a very definite view.

So add into the equation a whole other set of parents in-law and the problems are exacerbated 10-fold.

Yes, when one family has to live with another family, even for a day or two, it is a miracle if voices are not at least a little strained and a temper or two hasn't burst out (and I'm not talking about the toddlers).

I've had very recent experience of this familial hot-housing.

Normally we can avoid it by virtue of living within a 20-minute drive of both sets of grandparents, making our Christmases pleasant and festive.

However, we've just had a new bathroom put in, a bedroom re-done and a boiler moved during the coldest November on record.

Which is why we've just spent two weeks living firstly with my parents, and then with my in-laws.

And it's not been easy. Not for my husband, me, or either set of grandparents. My son Otis seemed unperturbed but has been waking in the night, something (for the last few months at least) he had thankfully not been doing.

It's fair to say it's not been an idyll of happy families.

But then when is it? Families are so entrenched in their own traditions and so used to accepting different people's behaviour. "So-and-so always does that," or "Oh, it's just the way we do it."

It makes entering an established family as "the other half" particularly difficult. To me the feeling of "being at home" develops through childhood years spent growing up in a place. Which is something unique, despite the sterling efforts of the in-laws.

And the feeling of "being at home" your other half just isn't there when you go into what's been their family home.

Having said that, we've been extremely grateful not to have to remain at home without a toilet in the sub zero temperatures.

And our poor parents have had to suffer their quiet, well-ordered lives being turned into a frenzy of dirty clothes and demanding children and grandchildren who seemingly consume enormous quantities of bread and milk.

But as I type I'm delighted to think that I have just one night left outside of my own home.

I miss it in all its chaotic mess. I really miss the cats, who've had to make do with daytime strokes instead of curling up on our laps at night.

It's going to be horrible when I go back. The washing machine doesn't work and in doing the bathroom we've totally messed up the kitchen.

We've carpets to lay and a lot of painting to do. It really is going to be awful. But I am so grateful that we have a house, and parents who have been willing to put up with the disruption of having us live with them for a week.

And I am thankful yet further, as I'm sure my parents and parents-in-law are, that our Christmas visitations will be confined to a few hours rather than days, or horror of horror, weeks.

Christmas has so much emotion vested in it. We're force-fed images of loving families, all big grins, settling down to a big, perfectly cooked dinner together.

Perhaps, as we've had the tears and bickering already, we might manage extra festive cheer this year.

And if you have to travel to see your loved ones or have them come and stay with you, I do hope you're better at coping with it than I am.

I'll be thinking of that as I sip a sherry from the blessed sanctity of my own home.