EVERY year, at a certain moment, the Christmas spirit descends on me.
Suddenly, I’m merry, warmly emotional and I love everybody.
This year it happened rather early, on Wednesday, December 13.
The moment I got to the end of my shift at work, and realised that an impossible day had been successfully got through, the spirit of Christmas came upon me like some magical ectoplasm reaching into my heart.

I’d been working hard all day on plans for a big work-related event, and by close-of-play all the arrangements had slotted neatly into place. I knew that the project would go ahead well and be a big success. Time to stop worrying.
So at 6.30pm I made myself a cup of tea and stepped out of the office with it. I breathed in the cold night air and listened to an owl hooting in the nearby woods (my office is deep in the Cheshire countryside, too deep for my liking, frankly).
Then I rolled myself a fag and supped the strong sweet tea as I gazed up at the stars. Suddenly, I felt marvellous.
I finished the fag, sighed contentedly (Golden Virginia baccy is just SO GOOD), and then into the car I got and drove home to dear old New Brighton.
It would have been sensible to go straight home and cook some tea and unwind in front of the telly. Hmmm…
Instead I went straight into Hell’s Waiting Room, where I joined Annette Kalms, Delilah Durham and the Cockernie Chappie for drinks.
It was the night of the old folks’ Christmas party, and I was invited to sample the buffet, which I did … pork pies, butties, cranberry stilton with crackers. It all went down very well with the red wine.
I think by that stage most of the senior citizens had toddled off home, but quite a few were still around and they sure were up for some community singing.
Brothers Ritchie and Tezza were leading the music, or trying to.
The tunes were tailored for the older customers, including George Formby’s “I’m Leaning on the Lamp Post” and “My Auntie Maggie’s Remedy” and I can’t say I enjoyed them very much.
I always thought George Formby was overrated, though I do still titter when I hear him sing “Emperor of Lancashire” which takes a swipe at posh people.
Soon tiring of all that old music, I asked the bothers to do renditions of the Kaiser Chiefs’ “I Predict A Riot” and The Kooks’ “She Moves In Her Own Way” but my pleas fell on deaf ears.
And I don’t think Bertha Brezhnev and old Ma Milosovic in the corner would have approved. Already they looked like they had been sucking lemons.
And besides it was getting hard to hear any of the songs because Y.I. William was getting quite giddy and VERY loud (also he was totally incomprehensible, having the broadest Geordie accent I have ever heard).
Y.I. even managed to put our singing Barman Burly off his stride, and he and his basso profundo singing voice are not easily distracted.
But, like I say, the Christmas spirit was upon me, so everything in the pub seemed delightful, including the music.
Landlord Mr Craggs and his missus Eleganta Chignon were in the music room with everybody, and I saw Mr Craggs do several high kicks to the show music.
It was all very merry, but don’t get me wrong, I am not necessarily a fan of the season of tinsel and triviality that is the modern Christmas.
I am not, for instance, looking forward to the so-called “stars” of British light entertainment and drama sending us their stale seasonal “telly specials”, usually made last September.
Frankly, I would like to see most British TV “stars” face a firing squad.
But I digress. In our modern age many people DREAD Christmas. The gross materialism and consumerism fills millions with distaste, but there a more serious reason why so many folk can’t stand this time of year – and that reason is the Great British Family.
There is family politics to be nimbly negotiated around and many an emotional minefield to be avoided (if that is impossible with all the booze flowing).
When memories are mixed with alcohol and our tongues are loosened many people discover the painful reality of that wise old Latin phrase “In Vino Veritas” (truth in wine).
And the family theme of Christmas leaves millions of single, childless people feeling excluded. The same can be said for the elderly, the widowed the homeless, the mentally ill and the pathologically lonely.
For these folk the modern Christmas, with its focus on the warm hearth of home, can be a terrible time.
At Christmas we are encouraged to show goodwill to all, but that usually boils down to being nice to family members (sometimes through gritted teeth).
For those of us fortunate enough to have surviving family members that we are still on speaking terms with, we should, of course, make that important visit “home”.
And where appropriate we should show respect and love to mothers and grandmothers, who, even today, put in the most work and take the most strain at Christmas.
Spare a thought too for all those who will be “home alone” at Christmas. Show some solidarity with your isolated neighbours by calling on them over Christmas to say “hello” and maybe invite them into your home for drinks or a bite.
They probably won’t want to come – they won’t want to intrude on your celebrations – but they will certainly feel better for being asked.
If you can’t invite them into your home – and that isn’t always easy – then at least think about and pray for (if you still say prayers) all the lonely and distressed people during the season of hope and goodwill.
To everyone reading this I wish the happiest Christmas possible.
To those who don’t feel happiness is going to feature, I hope the festive holidays simply fly by and that the New Year brings better times.

• Post to:
•  del.icio.us
•  Digg
•  Newsvine
•  Nowpublic
•  Reddit