I've called myself many things in public - a binge eater, an addict, a perfectionist, a workaholic, to name but a few - but I've never called myself a feminist. It's only now that I'm starting to wonder why.

Why did I choose to miss carols by candlelight, Christmas parties with friends, cosy nights in the pub and a few precious days chilling with my family? Why did I decide to travel so far away from the people I love when everyone else was going home?

Many of us are so busy with work commitments and after-work activities Monday-to-Friday that we can't wait for the peace and quiet of the weekend in order to recover. And then, when we wake up on Saturday morning to an empty bed, an empty house and an empty weekend, it doesn't feel relaxing, it feels hideously oppressive.