If I had a mince pie for every time someone complained in the past week that it is too warm for it to feel like Christmas then I would easily pass as Bernard Manning’s body double.
The annual quest for the picture book, log fire-fuelled White Christmas looks set to fail before the fat man in the red suit attempts to squeeze even half a buttock down his very first chimney.
The season to be jolly is actually supposed to be miserably cold – cold enough to tease halfwits everywhere that it may actually snow somewhere on the evening of December 24 other than places where the locals are called either Murdo or Daffyd.
At any other time in the winter we would all be delighted if we could nip to shops in our short sleeves and get out of bed 20 minutes later because we didn’t have to de-ice the people carrier but pleasant weather at this time of year is as unwelcome as Jose Mourinho at the Chelsea staff party.
You get this unseasonal weather at any other time and the climate change brigade would be out in their sandals predicting imminent Armageddon but they have been nowhere to be seen in the past week.
We want to see red berries on trees and robins pinching the bacon rind from the bird table, not daffodils in back gardens and postmen wearing shorts. But why are we so obsessed with the, almost, mythical White Christmas when only a tiny proportion of the British population has actually witnessed one?
Who says that you can’t get into the spirit unless you have to dig your car out of the drive? Clearly Bing Crosby and heavily coiffured marketing men at various multinationals have done a job on us.
These are the same people who convince us to cram our cupboards with cheese footballs and bottles of cola adorned with an inanely grinning Santa, as it isn’t Christmas without a perpetual sugar rush and cheddar breath.
Not that there isn’t anything wrong with buying into a 21st century Yuletide – not to would leave one open to accusations of being a curmudgeon. Believe it or not I am a huge fan of Christmas and the traditions that go with it. I am one of a minority in this country who goes to church during this period and I am fan of the rubbish telly, overcooked sprouts and petty family rows which usually centre on who has rigged Trivial Pursuit.
My beef with this time of year is being told how the perfect Christmas should look. It worries me greatly that we spend money we don’t have just so people, who already know that we love them, know that we love them. It also concerns me that many people only remember to be kind to fellow man at this time of year when they are happy to walk on by for the other 11-and-a-half months.
If you really want to see snow on December 25 then I recommend an airline ticket to Alaska because it ain’t happening here any time soon.