I send just four cards each year and, for efficiency, write these without emotion the previous January.
Xmas decorations, trees and crackers do little for me.
Turkey I merely dislike whilst mince pies and Xmas pudding vie for the top of my Most Loathesome Food list.
Secret Santa should, I believe, be ritually buried at midnight in an unmarked grace and thenceforth only ever enacted in Mummers’ Plays.
Carol singers, for reasons my subconcious has never communicated, make my skin crawl.
Despite all this, I love Xmas.