Am I the only person to love this year's controversial John Lewis advert? - Christa Ackroyd

But before we dissect what after all is only an advert to make us visit a shop even though it has become something of a tradition, let us think back and be honest about our Christmas’s when we were children. Were we always well behaved little angels ?

Absolutely not. Did we all sit perfectly still arms folded legs crossed as Christmas came upon us on our visits to grandparents and family ? I know I didn’t. I was far too excited about the big day to be anything other than the ultimate giddy kipper. And yes I am afraid my manners did fly out the window on occasions as I tried against hope to keep my abject love of Christmas and surprises under control. I was quite simply, by the time the big day arrived, beside myself. I suspect like the mother in the TV ad my mum was too.

Long before the naughty step was even a thing, or even the naughty or nice list which Father Christmas apparently has these days, I remember every year being threatened with him not coming at all. ´Right I have had enough´, said my mum almost every day after the Christmas tree was put up and decorated not perfectly coordinated with this year’s colour scheme, but a happy glorious mishmash of vintage, supermarket and home made decorations which came out every year.

And then only two weeks before Christmas after at least a fortnight of nagging from us the moment the lights were switched on in town and the latest Cindy or Lego set was advertised in the front window of Carters, the best shop in Bradford, to tempt little ones as we wrote and posted our list for Santa at the imaginary post box they installed at Busby’s.

Ah Busby’s and the department store festivities of yesteryear. It was simply glorious. Not a piece of technology or laser light projection to be seen. Father Christmas would arrive sometimes with real reindeers in a huge parade through the city after which we queued for hours upon hours to see him in his magic grotto because he was the real one of course.

Not those selling tinsel and cheap wrapping paper outside the markets. They according to my father just helped him out because he couldn’t be everywhere at once. But let us be honest those stores were there, like the adverts today, to tempt us to seek what was the absolute bees knees present of the day in our Christmas stockings, or in my case a pillow case at the foot of the bed.

The build-up was, as now, all consuming. Cakes were made and skewered and dripped with brandy, Christmas cards were written by mum for weeks on end because there were so many to do, and eventually when she relented and uttered the magic words go on then, yards and yards of paper chains were licked and hung in abundance throughout the house. The one set of fairy lights was checked, bulbs replaced and saved for the tree alone. We went to Carol services at church, at brownies and at school and dreamed of the big day.

As for that pillowcase of presents I remember one year bursting into my parents’ bedroom screaming ‘he’s been’ at just after midnight on Christmas day to be told if you don’t back to bed and go to sleep those presents will be going back where they came from.

But we were, I have to admit, slightly out of control at the sheer excitement of it all. And that is exactly what the John Lewis advert shows.

Let us be honest do we really know what our little ones are into? Now as then my gran used to tell me she couldn’t keep up with what she called the ‘latest fad’. And in a far more fast moving world neither can we. It is a very brave granny indeed who guesses at what their little grandchildren are into, let alone even understands why.

Only this week while Christmas shopping with two of mine I was amazed at what gained their attention. And yes I do remember being fussy with clothes from the age of about eight when my granny’s fair aisle sweater (which I would now adore of course) was the Christmas present I did not want to wear to the Christmas Day service that year. I did of course, because I couldn’t have got away with anything less but I suspect my bottom lip was protruding somewhat. ‘And you can take that look off your face ‘, my mum would have said ´And say thankyou. There are those with nothing who would be grateful for that jumper.’ She was right of course but I had to grow up a bit to appreciate it.

The message for me in the John Lewis ad is Christmas wrapped up in one. Unlike most it does not centre on tables groaning with far too much food and largesse. Did you for example have party snacks on Boxing Day? No we had turkey sandwiches and mince pies and loved it.

I was struck by the scene in the advert where she is reluctantly placing money into an envelope because she has no idea what to buy. It doesn’t feel right and so she sets off as I did this weekend on a whirlwind shopping spree which does nothing to clarify what to buy for a generation so different from ours. Until she discovers they are not. They really are the same. The last scene does not reveal anything but the sheer joy of sharing in the fun and sparkles that Christmas provides. We have no idea of individual presents bought in the end just a glimpse inside a secret room of magic and wonder, where young and old can experience the true joy of being together in this case by bouncing up and down in the chaos, laughing and happy. And so I get the message of the John Lewis ad. Some things come and go.

Christmas is about making memories together. About sharing the times while we still have them, about families being as giddy and excited with the children in your life as you were once every Christmas morning. And so John Lewis I might be among the few but I totally, as a grandma, understand the message. And what’s more I to am looking forward to throwing off convention for a day and being just as giddy as I ever was a child this Christmas. My grandchildren will remember the laughter we shared down the years far more than anything wrapped up in paper and tied up with ribbon. It’s going to be a blast whatever is under the tree. I am not called crazy Nonna for nothing.