Monday A whole-school production seemed a good idea in September, but what with the bad weather and the strain of keeping literacy and numeracy going, this afternoon, instead of a dress rehearsal, we are having a “stress rehearsal”.

The parent lending us the very professional lighting system apologises as he arrives two hours late at 11.30am just as reception children file into the hall for an early lunch before the rehearsal begins at 1pm.

The support assistant who looks after Stephen, a wheelchair-user, has left a message. Did I know the lift has broken? It will go up and down but the platform which his wheelchair sits on won’t close. It is blocking the junior corridor.

Tueday After the stress rehearsal comes the dress rehearsal. Lower junior children will have to creep past the disabled lift dressed as Cinderella, the big bad wolf and the three bears. The cast of Cats will have to shimmy past the platform in silence, so they can make a dramatic entrance. The lift is supposed to carry Stephen, dressed as the station master, up to the hall to wave to the audience. I phone the engineers but they’re not too hopeful of making it before January.

Wednesday Mandy can mend anything - photocopiers, printers, cameras - you name it, she’ll tame it. “Have you tried pushing the lift up?” she asks. I wince, but she takes a deep breath and manhandles it into position. “There,” she declares. “No problem.”

The lift crashes to the floor.

The cast of Cats flits silently past the broken lift to perform magnificently at the evening performance.

Thursday The engineers phone to say they can send someone on Saturday. Oh please, not Saturday.

Tom has a look. WD40 is what it needs, he says. He sprays the lift and lo, there was a magical rising. We jump up and down with excitement - and it crashes to the floor.

The seven dwarves and two ugly sisters manage to tiptoe round the lift that night. The final performance ends to universal acclaim and overwhelming applause.

Friday Christmas dinner day. All the children will sit down together in the hall. One hundred juniors will cascade past the broken lift to pull crackers while the staff serve their festive meal. Then we will entertain them with carols before they trundle out into the cold.

The engineers ring. They can send someone round after lunch, if we like. Oh, yes please.

Perhaps I should believe in Santa, after all.

Val Woollven is head of St Andrews C of E primary in Plymouth