This is a quick low down on the main components of Christmas Dinner and why we should take pleasure in every mouthful of the most anticipated dinner of the year.
Every stage of Christmas is an event in itself, a milestone to be marked, a perfect Instagram moment. Christmas doesn't just happen to him, it's a series of experiences he feels he has to have, otherwise he's failed. At first this will seem romantic and exciting, before your brain slowly starts to dribble right out of your head. And when it does, it's got tinsel running through it.
I can't let my child's first Christmas just pass by in this unholy whirl can I? Not if a cursory internet search of 'Baby's First Christmas' is anything to go by. Apparently I need to make it 'unforgettable'. I should be organising festive family photo shoots. Buying him a reindeer outfit made from real reindeers. And having his first 'Christmas Day turd' immortalised in clay.
Christmas at Standingstone - the farm I grew up on in Scotland - was largely a dreary affair. Any fun had to be either sought from within myself or beyond its demises. Both of my adopted parents tended towards the solemn anyway; their sadnesses and failures permeated the already dour and damp sandstone house with a cold seriousness.
Two events stir a sense of culinary duty in the most traditional of men. One, of course, is the barbecue. The other is setting fire to Christmas pudding.
Can I just clear this up for the avoidance of doubt - usually Secret Santas are Shit. I mean, obviously, you know it's going to be shit because it's a secret Santa. It's the gift lottery. It's unlucky dip.
If you're in the midst of searching for a last-minute, magical escape this Christmas, look no more. In addition to the traditional, German-style market every European capital boasts nowadays, Brussels has something extra in store this winter.
I love how excited everyone becomes at Christmas, it has to be one of my favourite times of the year. Amidst the blustering winds, unpredictable downpour, and imminent travel disruption, all that festive spirit really does help make everyone feel a little bit better. But the truth is, I don't actually celebrate Christmas.
No one has the right to refuse to help or serve someone because their religion denotes what others should put in their shopping basket, trolley or mouth. A Marks & Spencer food hall is not a place to breed religious or racial intolerance.
When I was just eight years old, Christmas Day came to have a different, bittersweet meaning for me, compared to most lucky souls. Because when I was meant to be celebrating my eighth birthday (yes, I was born on 25 December), my Uncle Eddie, who lived next door, and to whom I was extraordinarily close, passed away in the early hours of that morning.
You feeling Christmassy? You excited for the time off, the overeating, the family fun and the presents? You love this time of year? All the film watching, Roses munching, Baileys drinking fun you can have eh? Well not me.
Call me a Luddite but I remember the good old days. When you fancied someone and wanted to 'go out' with him or her you'd have to actually ask him or her out. i.e. pluck up the courage to talk to them in person. Yes, actually ask them verbally. This often meant you would soon have to meet their parents, or perhaps worse, their brothers and sisters. But things have changed.
When it comes to Christmas drinks, a standard selection of old favourites immediately springs to mind. Mulled wine, Sherry, Baileys, Port - these are the usual bottles seen poking out of overloaded shopping trolleys the week before Christmas.
There'll be rumblings of Christmas being "too commercialised", that the town centre is "hell on Earth" throughout December and, when you slink in feeling warm and merry after your work Christmas drinks, he will look with scorn upon your flashing Rudolph nose and antlers, brush the crumpled mistletoe out of your hand and will refuse you drunken Christmas sex. What a joyless, heartless b*****d.
Christmas music will never be cool, despite the fact that it has inspired plenty of cool music - don't tell me Louis Armstrong's Zat You Santa Claus? isn't the bees knees? Scoring a Christmas hit can often lead to a gold trimmed pension for the composer and/or artist who records it.
Living with the death of a child is difficult at any time of the year but Christmas brings extra challenges for bereaved parents. I should know. This will be my ninth Christmas without my son Owen.