It seemed as though I had only just got the crashes and bangs from last year's month of November 5 fireworks out of my hearing aid.

Then this year's lengthy assault on our ears was back.

Fireworks are fine, unless you happen to be an animal, in which case it must be hell, but what worries me is the indisputable fact that the period between Bonfire Nights is getting shorter every year.

That is not just because the period over which fireworks become the weapon of choice for the local youth gets longer and longer but because the year seems to get shorter and shorter.

We've no sooner finished the supply of indigestion tablets, which are, of course, the indisputable accompaniment to our Christmas dinner, before we are queuing up for our Easter eggs.

Easter is the time when our nearest and dearest come to spend a few (wet) days with us, requiring monumental shopping trips for a huge stash of food.

This, despite the fact that no one these days actually closes over what used to be one of the Church's most sacred holy days so we can all shop till we drop.

Fortified by our intake of chocolate, we jet off for our summer break which, of course, we were wise enough to book while the snow was still on the ground to ensure we got the bargain of a lifetime, despite the fact that you will discover when you arrive at your destination that late bookers got a better deal than you did.

Hardly have you managed to get your 10,000 delightful out-of-focus holiday snaps developed and bored your closest friends senseless with them, it is time to buy your Christmas cards from among the displays of last year's designs which always seem to hang around while the dust gently settles on them at the bargain counter.

Still, as the late Quentin Crisp was wont to say, once the dust is an inch thick it doesn't make any difference and it does mean you can start writing your cards in August before the rush.

By now, you are beginning to wonder what has happened to the year, which only a moment ago was bright and shiny and new.

Radio, television and the printed page is already warning you that there are only so many days to Christmas and you start to panic again.

After all, you have only just managed to weed out all those from your address book who have not sent you a card for five years, whose address you have lost or, more annoying, whose address you have jealously guarded but with no name attached.

For the next few weeks, which will pass in the twinkling of an eye, your house will be filled with wrapping paper, unsuitable presents for your grandchildren, dire warnings from your sons and daughters not to buy such and such for the children (too late) and bottles of liquor with unpronounceable names which seemed delicious when you tasted them in outer Patagonia.

Bonfire Night has come and gone in a flash, literally, and New Year's Eve is looming once again, tipping its hat to carol singing, trick or treat and the office party.

Hangovers are the order of the day as yet one more year flies off into the ever-brightening, fast-approaching, early morning spring sky.

We all start looking fearfully over our shoulders once more and another year bites the dust as we wish a Happy New Year to one and all and whisper under our breath: "Where on Earth did that year go?"

I don't know the answer to that question but if you do, please write and let me know as I would quite like to rewind it and actually see what happened in 2003 ... or was it 2002? I can't remember - the years go so fast!