Brett Ellis says that Christmas starts too early these days

It’s a natural sign of ageing to realise that events are not finite, as it forces you to squeeze every ounce of fun out of them when they arrive, as, well, this could be the final hurrah.

The celebration is now more of a happening and far removed from its original purpose: to celebrate the birth of Jesus - if you believe in such a yarn.

Folk from all faiths and none buy into Christmas, albeit it just the exchange of gifts or time off with family, as we generally reset and are nice to each other for a short window before normal bastardly service resumes post-Boxing Day.

One of the starkest differences now, compared to my youth, is the length of time Christmas drags on for.

Cards, gifts and commercialised, plastic junk litter our retail outlets arrive from, seemingly, the end of September, and come the day, most of us can't wait to see it out the door before the conversations begin as to how to dispose of the Christmas tree and whose random untagged present is still in situ as we tighten our belts in January as punishment for our indulgent gluttony the previous month.

Brett Ellis says Christmas seems to start in September In mid-November, I sat and watched TV as Dawn French and other B listers, hired by the big commercial guns, infiltrated my living room as they attempted to sell me Christmas appendages from mince pies, to electricals, to turkeys and jumpers.

To escape, I took a trip to Lidl for some basics with my daughter Millie who, as a form of teenage water torture pressured and hassled me to buy a Christmas tree there and then. Astoundingly I managed to hold firm as I said: “Not until December” on repeat, but I knew I was on a losing wicket as eventually I gave her a glimpse of light by saying “Maybe”.

By the time the Gavin and Stacey finale hits the screen, we are all generally sick of it: the waste, the lead-up, the mountains of cakes and crisps and turkey and potatoes that will likely sit and go rotten as we attempt to, embarrassingly, shove them in our minuscule bins in the forlorn hope that the binmen, now working a week out of kilter as we try to navigate the temporary collection timings, will take them, as they are open an inch as the receptacles burst at the seams.

But that of course is just my take, as another year passes on my mission to become 100% curmudgeonly, but until that time, I wish you and yours a relaxing, overhyped and over-long Christmas and a most excellent new year.

• Brett Ellis is a teacher.