I am not a scrooge. I believe in giving and goodwill. So why does this evaporate at Christmas? It’s a time for family we’re told, but whose family? Our old relations are exhumed once a year but just continue last year’s petty bickering. Ho hum.

It’s a time for giving presents wrapped in pointless packaging and quickly discarded. Why bother with gift cards whose hidden message really is “You do the shopping: I’m busy”. All presents could be recycled. Think of the cost savings. I’m giving back or ‘rotating’ three years’ worth of unopened electric toothbrushes this year. This is what the cliché, it’s better to give than receive, actually means.

It’s certainly a season for overeating with more heart attacks at this time of year than any other. If the food doesn’t kill you, the stress will. I am trapped in a food vortex, indulging in two massive dinners on X-mas day to placate both sides of the family. I won’t eat for three days later. And no more bon-bons with unfunny jokes, please, like: “Who created fireworks? Answer: some bright spark.” Yawn.

For me, tree is a four-letter word. Who needs to hack down a live pinus radiata, spreading deadly pine needles everywhere? The whole edifice is a potential fire hazard not helped by tree light makers who ensure if one bulb blows, always in a hard-to-reach spot, they all die. Clever huh?

Christmas is now not a day: it’s a momentum. It comes with a three month lead-in time called Christmas creep. Days are even counted down: 3-2-1, like a space launch although great expectations of discovery never materialise.

We’re told to be jolly. We sing carols. We give to charity. And?

Originally a pagan holiday it’s now not so much an Ode to Joy as an ode to alcoholism and shopaholicism. Boxing Day, once a day for opening presents, is now crass commercialism and a homage to the god, Mammon, in his temple of shops.

Christmas is when I remember what’s been lost, rather than hoping for what is possible.

In a world at war with itself I offer peace and a merry Christmas.