FOR weeks now we have been bombarded with Christmas ads, urging the purchase of this year’s ‘must-have’ gift; from toys to jewellery to high-tech gadgets.

From magical snowscapes to cosy family gatherings and intimate parties, the message is clear: spend like there’s no tomorrow and count the cost in the cold light of January.

Many people find themselves spending money they do not really have, buying expensive gifts for people who may not really matter to them, in a frenzied bid to find the most unique present.

Our own columnist (Woman on the Verge) touches on this very subject this week, lamenting the loss of traditions capturing the true spirit of Christmas which have all but been replaced with extravagance on an obscene scale.

Since when did visiting Santa have to become an ‘experience’ costing a three-figure sum (or more), and when exactly did interior designers start decking the halls for an eye-watering fee?

Gone are the days when a child would circle their favourite toy in a catalogue in the hope of Santa leaving it under the tree on Christmas morning.

Now social media influencers display the latest luxe brands, turning young heads and heaping added financial pressure on parents who are already feeling more than a little Yuletide stress.

One colleague revealed how a relative had been asked by their 12-year-old daughter for the latest noise-cancelling headphones with a price tag of €500. But it doesn’t end there; the same child also has her eye on a ‘miracle’ beauty gadget costing in the same region.

So that’s a four-figure sum for a young girl whose head has been turned by some influencer or other who has somehow given her the idea that her 12-year-old complexion needs the latest anti-wrinkle, collagen-infused device on the market which in all reality is probably aimed at women over the age of 50.

Instagram has a lot to answer for: not least the matching pyjamas family photo – with a cast to rival The Waltons plus any pet not fast enough to outrun the scratchy Christmas jumper.

Instead of wading through the commercial quagmire would we not be better served by reviving some of the traditions that shaped our own childhood Christmases?

One loyal reader of this newspaper, who typically starts celebrating Christmas in November, shared memories of their own magical childhood and why the festive season is so special to them.

They said: ‘Going to midnight mass was very special with the community together, and families reunited. I loved seeing everyone happy together, and when we arrived home, my mother would start some of the Christmas meal preparations and I would sit at the kitchen table enjoying our conversations.’

This writer can share similar memories. It’s very much an olfactory theme. I recall the smell of turf from the fire being lit early on Christmas Eve, an enticing waft of fresh parsley and thyme from the kitchen as my mother made her trademark stuffing. Later that evening there would come the mouth-watering smell of ham being boiled; and as a special treat a hot ham sandwich for supper with the butter melting into the bread.

This trip down memory lane often leaves me teary-eyed, having lost my mother almost ten years ago. Still, both my sister and myself endeavour to continue some of the family traditions by using her recipe for stuffing – though it’s never quite as good as the original.

Getting back to the presents thing and having a few teachers in the extended family I can let you in on a little secret: they are not fans of carting home a haul of scented candles, novelty socks, bath bombs and biscuits.

They would prefer a hand-drawn card from their pupil with a heartfelt message inside.

Similarly, children would much rather have your time than an expensive gift; or at least that should be the order of things?

In these last days leading up to Christmas resist the mounting pressure to add to the gift haul, upsize the turkey, overstock the larder, or dress the front door with lights and decorations costing hundreds of euros.

Instead let’s cherish the authentic message of hope, love and comfort which can all-too-often get lost in a sea of shopping lists, social media posts and deadlines.