Meathwoman's Diary: Where's the time to stop and smell the pumpkins?

The candle flames were barely out in the pumpkins and the kids were still in a candy coma when I walked into a shop this morning that was more reminiscent of a Santa's grotto than a retail outlet.

The overpowering scent of cinnamon that was pungent in the air and cheesy festive tunes ear worming themselves into my subconscious gave no doubt that the C word was going to be thrust upon us by force - whether we liked it or not.

By the end of the week, our social media feeds will be awash with creepy elves on the shelves in compromising scenarios, must have gifts and elaborate ideas for Toy Show night. Don't forget the Santa experiences we 'must book now' before the kiddies' Christmas is ruined forever.

God be with the days, being allowed to stay up to watch Gay Byrne awkwardly get to grips with a Hawaiian Barbie was deemed as excitement, not to mention his attempt to get banter out of a child that looked like they were dropped from space with not an iota that they were in a TV studio. Then there was Gaybo's trippy geansaí sure to bedazzle any fading child into insomnia. Now it's literally an all singing all dancing event with branded PJs, gift sets and this year it has even been turned into a musical!

Before I continue there is no bah humbug here, I actually love Christmas. Bring on the ugly jumpers, mince pies, overpriced festive lattes and questionable Santas who are lined up to both delight and frighten the bejaysus out of small children. But.... is there no chance to catch our breath just live in the present moment?

And bear in mind that this is being protested by a woman whose thoughts only turned to purchasing a pumpkin to intricately carve into something wonderful four days before Halloween that was subsequently turned into pumpkin soup when I realised that was never going to happen.

There are those who of course, bask in organisation and order and have their gifts bought and wrapped by July (they are said to be an alien experiment) and have spent the year pre-planning a trip to Lapland to surprise the little ones with one dreary December morning.

But that brings me to my next point, the pressure on families to pull all the stops out is immense. We are only short of Santy's glass of milk and cookies being upgraded to a voucher for a 5-star hotel.

Its puritan roots have been transformed into rampant commercialism and while I'm not religious, there surely has to be a middle ground.

We are primed for a perfect Christmas — a pressure that builds unconsciously over several weeks and none more so than this year with it both being the first Christmas without any restrictions to the other extreme of the cost-of-living crisis. Everyday from now until 25th December, parents are going to be overwhelmed with the constant onslaught of all things Christmas, a reminder for some of what they won't be able to afford to give their children. It seems we have already lost the notion of appreciating the smaller things in life the pandemic taught us not so long ago.