JUST one more chocolate-filled advent calendar morning to go… (Does anyone else remember the time when we were happy with just a surprise picture behind the calendar window?) All that shopping, wrapping, card writing, decorating, cooking, queueing at the tills and outrageous spending (this year an average of £177 per parent per child) to make one day extra special, will soon be over.

At an unearthly hour (usually about 5am when I was growing up) homes will awaken to the sound of ripping paper, oohs and aahs and ‘Look what I’ve got!’ in appreciation of Santa’s unerring ability to negotiate log burners and gas central heating to get just the right presents in just the right stockings. The familiar sounds of a truly happy Christmas.

But if you listen carefully, you may also hear other sounds: the sighs and tears of those for whom December 25 is not a long-anticipated joyous occasion, but simply another day through which to struggle – the disparity, for them, made even more striking by the belief that everyone else is so blissfully happy.

Some sad Christmases are unavoidable.

Relate, the relationship charity, report an upsurge in enquiries for counselling after the festive season as struggling relationships are tipped over the edge by the emotional strain of the festive season. Those grieving put on a brave face as the Christmas cheer that surrounds them makes the absence of their loved one even more poignant and painful. Those for whom loneliness is overwhelming or who are living on the street may find respite in a warm Christmas meal before the chaos of their life once more engulfs them. And others will wait by a hospital or sick bed at home – longing for signs of life, recovery, hope – the only Christmas gift they want this year.

Other sad Christmases are avoidable.

Families forced further into debt, overcome by the burden of giving their children the same quality of Christmas that their friends are having. Those facing Christmas day alone estranged from their families. Those forced to flee homes and wider family to keep their children and immediate loved ones safe from war, facing hunger, uncertainty and the hostility of the countries to which they have escaped. Children for whom Christmas day offers no respite from family neglect or abuse.

I’ve been privileged to spend most of my life working in organisations dedicated to providing respite, hope and relief to those who will find Christmas anything but happy. These thoughts won’t stop me having a Happy Christmas – or wanting to give one to those I love.

I’m lucky – Christmas makes me smile with joyful family memories. But I will stop and think about others and make sure that alongside the money and time that I spend on me and mine, I’ll set aside a bit to try and bring some Christmas cheer to those who aren’t as lucky as I’ve been. Merry Christmas!