Christmas is when we celebrate with our nearest and dearest but spare a thought for those who have no one - James Mitchinson

Tonight I will, with my wife and two boys, put aside almost everything else as we go about our now annual Christmas Eve rituals and traditions. A wintry walk to the church to inflict my singing of carols upon unsuspecting ears, and to enjoy watching our little ones act out the meaning of Christmas.

As I’ve aged, this is the ritual of all rituals that means the most to me. Gathered in a space that is centuries old where others have gathered too. There is always a seat for us and always a smile. People know our names and we know theirs. It is too special to be taken for granted.

Then, a brisk walk back home for some quirks that I hope at least some of you can relate to. Quite why we do it to ourselves lord only knows, but we’ll throw glittery porridge all over the doorstep (reindeer dust, you see), we’ll pour flour all over the hallway through a template, thus leaving behind Father Christmas-shaped bootprints, there will be hot chocolates all round and film we’ve seen at least 100 times.

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There is a magic door we must leave open for the big man himself to come through, where he will be greeted by a platter of one carrot, one parsnip, one minced pie and a glass of port. Mrs M will win the race to the pie and port leaving poor old dad to bite reindeer teethmarks into the root veg.

A stock image of Christmas decorations in a house.A stock image of Christmas decorations in a house.
A stock image of Christmas decorations in a house.

We’ll photograph our golden retriever under the tree for the thirteenth and last time, his declining health and advancing years now bringing about the inevitability of his passing.

He is the first dog of my own, and I would be lying if I said that the prospect of seeing him take his final breaths doesn’t fill me with dread. For more than a decade he has been in our home, by our side, warding off would-be intruders (you know, like the posties) whilst offering us all his unerring, loyal companionship.

And it is that which I have told myself to play back in my mind’s eye when it comes to the moment when the right thing to do is to say our goodbyes.

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The time he slipped his collar to jump into the river at Chatsworth and wouldn’t come out for hours. Those early days when we weren’t very savvy when it came to the power of the hungry retriever’s belly, foolishly putting out on the coffee table a farm shop spread that cost us an arm and a leg, and that, in its entirety, olives and all, mysteriously disappeared in the presence of nobody and nothing but Wilf.

For when you reflect upon the life of a dog, they are but a fleeting chapter in our lives and yet we to them are their whole story. We are their everything, and that brings me back to what’s important at Christmas time…one another.

In a year as tumultuous as I can recall, Christmas gives us a chance to slow things down and remind ourselves that in the flotsam and jetsam of life are things you have to hold dear.

To some people that means their significant other. Children. Grandchildren. It is the family elders who have given so much to guide and nurture us. It will be friends and colleagues, and perhaps faintly-known neighbours.

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Then there are those who I’d like to think - call this my Christmas wish - might just become more important than anyone; those with nobody. Not even a canine companion.

A recent survey found that half of the entire population of this country experienced loneliness at some point in their lives, yet, in that percentage of people are those for whom loneliness is a state of permanence, not a fleeting feeling.

By their very nature these people are hard to reach; they are often lonely because they have no one and because they have no one it is easy for others not to see them; a community of people tragically united by their isolation.

I cannot profess to have all or even any of the answers as to how we go about fixing loneliness, and I must offer my admiration and appreciation to those who have helped us this past decade to shine a light on this crippling affliction.

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Knowing there are so many people who will not walk to church, or even the pub, with someone who cares about them, can make you feel guilty, especially if you are lucky enough to be amongst people who care about you and who you care about, too.

But what I’ve learned through campaigning on loneliness these last ten years is that is no bad thing.

Being appreciative of what you have, especially those little things, whilst worried about those who have nothing are not mutually exclusive emotions and knowing that gives us the confidence to continue the fight against loneliness.

So, please; have a joyous Christmas. From myself and all of us at The Yorkshire Post, thank you for being there for us as we are here for you, and we look forward to your company throughout 2025.

Merry Christmas, and a happy new year to you all.

James Mitchinson is the Editor of The Yorkshire Post.

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