A guilt trip ... the gift I really don’t want for Christmas

IN OUR house, there’s one passionate Christmas proselytiser – me. I’m the commanderin-chief, urging the others to fling themselves once more unto the breach to indulge my own passion for the whole schmaltzy, sentimental extravaganza. This, when they would rather try to ignore it all – either spend the day in bed, or possibly head to a place in the sun where December 25 is just another day in the calendar.

However, this year my enthusiasm for all things Christmas keeps coming up against a new obstacle – the guilt trip. So much of the traditional stuff, the things that help make Christmas the Christmas I love, runs counter to how we are meant to behave in this sustainability-conscious age.

Where to start? Well there’s all the non-biodegradable tinsel and glitter that adds essential twinkle, the environmentally unsound cards (and, no, a digital version that can’t be peered at by everyone does not cut it), the energy-wasting fairy lights glinting through the windows on dark nights. And that’s even before we start on the myriad wrongs involved in shopping on Amazon.

Christmas has become yet another one of those conversations with the little devil permanently perched on one shoulder, who urges our more responsible self to go hang. The one who says: ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t fuss about all that wrapping paper being chucked in the bin.’

It’s the same little devil who is always whispering ‘let’s get an Uber’ despite the threat it possesses to our treasured black cabs and the fact that bad management has left its licence in London under threat.

The fact that so many of us are prepared to put ourselves in the