I've often thought that one of the world's greatest, if shortest, works of fiction was the large notice which is hung outside on the Private Office door in the Foreign Office.

Put there in anticipation of Ministers in this case me daring to take some time off for abnormal activities like a family holiday, Easter or Christmas, the board announces "Last Box, 6.00 p.m." and then a date.

"Private Office"? This is the ancient Whitehall euphemism for a Minister's Office.

Why it's called "Private" I've not the first idea. It's about as "private" as the main bar of the Ivy pub before a big game. The only privacy I ever get is when I escape to the loo, and even there I can be interrupted by a shout through the keyhole that I'm wanted on the phone.

But back to the work of fiction that notice.

Another ancient Whitehall tradition, but one which does in fact make a lot of sense, is the Ministerial box. It's literally a box, by tradition red, and with a strong lock.

During each day the Minister's staff (the "Private Secretaries" of the Private Office) receive all kinds of papers for the Ministers' attention.

In the Foreign Office there are the so-called "telegrams", reports from our Embassies and High Commissions around the world; and often weighty documents, requiring a decision by me, called "submissions".

Just in case one has the mad idea around 6.30 or 7 p.m. that the rest of the evening could be a quiet meal and feet up in front of the TV, the box is filled with all these documents and given to you as you are leaving the office. It comes with a sweet smile like the look on a cat's face when it drops a dead mouse at one's feet.

The notice normally gives a "last box" deadline many days before I go on leave. But, so far as I can tell, no one believes its messages, for the work keeps coming.

And the staff in the office, who I think are great, and who I know spend their lives shielding me from even more work, might say that there's a reason why the work keeps coming, which is that I get through it. And that's true.

In my view, you can't be a senior Minister unless you are willing to accept that two of the many responsibilities which go with that are clear decision-taking and a high work-rate. And I'm blessed by the fact that I enjoy the work. But I never ever believe the notice because the work keeps coming.

This Christmas, I thought, would be no different. So I'm standing in the Private Office at 5.00 p.m. just before the break, wishing everyone a Happy Christmas, with injunctions from my staff that after the EU Presidency I should take a rest, when one of the Private Secretaries - without any apology - produced a Ministerial box. "Your work for Christmas, Foreign Secretary", she said, ever so sweetly.

"I knew it", I thought, "Why do they bother with that notice?"

So I opened it, there and then, just to shame them. Inside, there was one submission resting on a lot of tinsel. I started reading in very official language it "recommended" that I did indeed take a rest. Then I noticed who was the originator of the submission, one "St Nicholas", and I fell in.

It was the best Christmas present I've had in eight and-a half years as a Minister.

And the office were true to their word. Apart from some phone calls related to the (then) two kidnap cases which were on-going, on Iraq and a couple of other urgent matters, it was by far and away the quietest Christmas I've had since becoming Foreign Secretary. My family could scarcely believe it.