Last Sunday night – the 23rd of December – I was standing in a bar in La Alpujarra region of southern Spain, taking in the low-key decorations and the festive atmosphere that was unspoilt by any gaudiness, ‘silly season’ music or advertisements. A ‘Campesino’ (rural dweller with their own piece of land) was telling me how he was heading up to his ‘campo’ to kill a young goat (‘cabra’) for his family to eat on Christmas Eve.


Well, I’m not a big fan of goat meat and I don’t think I could kill an animal with my bare hands… although wisdom might have it that: “if you’re not prepared to kill it, why are you prepared to eat it”. The point, rather, was that this seemed a down-to-earth approach to the festive preparations… taking something from your own land to provide for your family while giving the ‘supermercado’ a wide berth.


One day later, I find myself sitting on an Easyjet plane departing from Malaga Airport, gazing out of the window at the snowy peaks of the Sierra Nevada visible on the distant horizon and thinking: I want the plane to turn round and take me back to the tasteful and inspiring version of Christmas I have just left behind.


I thought about what I would land “into”, besides the grey clouds surrounding the destination airport. Yes, I would land into a UK Christmas in full flow… pretty much another dimension and something of a culture shock after spending time in Andalucia.


We can’t turn back the clock but, sometimes, I wish we could. I had a glimpse of how the festive season may have been here, in the past. With a society leaning towards Catholicism and with barely any focus on commerciality, the Spanish ‘Navidad’ celebrations are based around traditional decorations, some religious effigies, mass at the church on Christmas Eve, shared family experience and a time of tranquillity. There is also a ‘Three Kings’ celebration on January 6, in which children are thrown sweets in the street. It is not – repeat not – based around the concept of shopping ‘til you drop and the onset of January sales. Plastic tat is not a requirement.


Forward the clock a few hours, and I am in the North of England staring at a shrink-wrapped turkey that has had its legs amputated before arrival anywhere near an oven. Is that better and/or more “normal” than the goat, I ponder. Are the hundreds of pre-prepared accompaniments to UK festive meals that occupy our supermarkets – from packs of stuffing to diced seasonal vegetables and finger foods - indicative that we have lost the knowledge or the will to make our own? Should we all be “digging for victory” in the New Year and getting back to basics? Has convenience replaced the urge to whip up a feast fit for the Three Kings, without it featuring Auntie Bessies’ quick-roast potatoes? Is it time to buy a goat?


Forward the clock to Christmas afternoon. After the delights of the Queen’s speech, in which I couldn’t help wondering how much the royal Christmas decorations cost the UK, on came the annual barrage of TV ads. SALES! Boxing Day sales! Christmas Day online sales! Some consumers queued all night on Oxford Street to buy a new sofa or what-not at a knock-down price. Had they even digested their turkey by then, I wonder? Or did they skip Chrimbo dinner to hot-foot it down to the high street for an overnight sit-in?


Forward to Boxing Day.  Festivities have now been cast aside in favour of shopping. Headline news is about the level of retail spending during December. This is followed by footage of consumers rampaging through shopping centres, elbowing each other out of the way to reach the bargain goods. At this stage, I contact Easyjet customer services and bring our return flight forward by 12 days, meaning we can (all things permitting) escape the country on New Year’s Eve… back to the log fires, the low-key decorations, the fiesta spirit and the sense of real tradition underpinning it all.


Christmas. As sure as night follows day, it gets me the wrong way. It is hyped so you expect to spend quality time becoming a cross between Heston Blumenthal, Mother Theresa, Santa Claus and Joseph Rowntree in your fabulously decorated home… but in the end, you spend it in Tesco.
While home is where the heart is – and mine is most definitely not an aisle full of shrink-wrapped turkeys with their legs cut off – the festive spirit is in the heart. Surely, that is the only place it can truly exist. As far as I can see, it is not achieved by popping down to ASDA and buying some more chocolate fun packs or a crate of discounted beer for New Year’s Eve. It is not found in the reduced clothing section at M&S. And it is most certainly not found during the ad breaks on Sky TV. If we’re not careful, we will lose it entirely to the altar of Christmas shopping. We will spend the entire festive season trapped in the shopping mall, or the queue of vehicles attempting to leave.


For me, it is ‘adios’, UK festive season. You lose a bit more “reality” every year. In my opinion, the prevailing “reality” is now found on the VR games loaded on to Nintendo DS and Playstations that are popular gift choices (admittedly, my six year old received a DS). “Oneness” has turned into a “onesie”: one of those ridiculous adult-sized babygroes that were another big retail hit this year.


So, Christmas, I guess I’ll catch up with you in your UK guise another year. If I can drag myself away from hiding in the mountains with the goats!