A scented candle that smells like floral cat sick? No, thanks.
A gift set of bath bombs that will have you smelling your ‘pits in paranoia for the next month? Nope.
A mini cafetiere clearly made for people who do not drink coffee, and the world’s tiniest packet of biscuits, all wrapped in enough packaging to tip our fragile climate over the edge? You can keep it.
This year, I am not doing Christmas presents. Actually, this isn’t totally accurate: I will do presents for the kids. Kids expect presents and can’t be asked to understand my reasoning behind withholding them. Besides this, kids actually do need new stuff; their personalities and hobbies grow and evolve as they do, and they don’t have an expendable income to indulge these interests.
And, selfishly, I love watching kids open presents. I love watching them playing or using whatever I bought them. I take true joy in the whole process.
This is all to say, now that it’s almost Christmas shopping time (for all but the most smugly prepared, anyway), I’m having to send out my annual WhatsApp saying: “Please don’t buy us any presents. We don’t need anything at all. And we’re just buying for the kids this year.”
Typically, my friends fall into two camps. For those whose love language is giving and receiving gifts, it’s a little bewildering. But the other half of my friendship group wholeheartedly supports this change. And, though I might get a box of homemade tablet or a spoon whittled on retreat in a rainy forest somewhere, mostly they respect – even appreciate – my “no gift” wishes.
I adore Christmas, but not excessive spending
Please don’t think that I’m a Grinch. I adore Christmas. Even working as a Christmas elf at Harrods in my early 20s, where I sang and danced along to Christmas carols for legions of posh school kids and the occasional Girls Aloud band member, wasn’t enough to put me off.
Pretty much from June onwards, I start saying: “It will be Christmas soon.” I look forward to the hot chocolate we’ll drink while watching a roster of Christmas films, anticipate the advent calendar that I will buy for my little boy, and can’t wait to put up decorations. Indeed, I spend the whole of December irritatingly humming and singing Christmas songs, and plan a four-day menu a month in advance so I can be sure we will have the best day possible.
It doesn’t take a therapist to work out why Christmas is so important to me. I grew up in a house where there was never enough money. And, though the season could sometimes still be magical – because, when you’re a child, the season just is magical – mostly what I remember is a hard ball of stress and wanting in my chest because I knew it was a time to buy, buy, buy, and we absolutely could not.
My poor mum inevitably buckled under the pressure and became angry and frustrated as we asked for more, even though we couldn’t help it because every TV advert, every shop display, urged us to want more, more, more.
Most of us don’t need anything but feel present pressure
The average person spends, on average, £642 on Christmas. In these times, where people are struggling with inflated fuel prices and the rising cost of living, I don’t want anyone we know to feel pressured to spend money they don’t have to buy our family gifts.
At the same time, each to their own. If you’re someone who likes to appear on your friend’s doorstep like Santa with massive sacks of presents, if you enjoy the ritual of the shopping and the wrapping and watching the reaction on someone’s face when you have found them the perfect thing, then merry Christmas – more power to you.
If any of our friends did need anything, we would give it to them during the year as a gift, for no reason
But we eventually realised that none of our friends needed anything, except perhaps fewer demands on their time and bank balance.
Besides, if any of our friends did need anything, we would give it to them during the year as a gift, for no reason. Despite my Christmas moratorium on presents, my best friend and I are prolific gift givers, and rarely meet up in the year without having a tiny, inexpensive token to give to each other: a pair of earrings, a hand-me-down scarf, a card made by our kids.
Prioritise making memories
Alongside this, for years now, we’ve realised that, as nice as it is to know someone is thinking of you and putting effort into a gift, it’s thought and effort that isn’t required. Because we know our friends care for us and we care for them.
Instead, we prioritise affordable experiences, so we are making memories together: Christmas shopping and lunch, a fancy hot chocolate and a wintery walk in the park, a movie night at home.
Perhaps, like most things in life, the key is working out what is important, and not being afraid to challenge the routine norms. The first year we did this, some friends were a little taken aback. But, as the years have gone on, they’ve understood, and seen the value of what we do. Some have even implemented it themselves.
So, my Christmas shopping this year will take place entirely in toy shops, where I’ll play with all the demo toys, sing along to the jingles, pick the gaudiest wrapping paper and the biggest ribbons, the most gigantic slabs of chocolate. And there won’t be a bath bomb or mini cafetiere in sight.
Kerry Hudson is an Aberdeen-born, award-winning writer of novels, memoirs and screenplays
Conversation