Christmas with the family is not so bad

Christmas should be a godsend for a newly single man like me. The party season, filled with good cheer, flirtation and boozy friskiness, seems ideal for the unattached thirtysomething male.

It's been eight years since I last spent Christmas as a singleton but I'm not excited by the prospect of parties, frolics and uninhibited women. All I want is a quiet time. I'm even looking forward to the season passing and things returning to normal.

The Christmas period is soaked in nostalgia. For the recently divorced, like me, and those who have lost someone in other ways, such as bereavement, it reminds of you of that person and your times together. These sentiments rose-tint the past; the difficulties of the relationship are forgotten and you become acutely aware of the unoccupied space they've left behind.

This year, I've had none of the pleasurable preamble to Christmas that I had with my wife: shopping together, choosing a tree and decorating the house. I haven't decorated my tiny bachelor flat; the idea seems pathetic. My Christmases with her were private ones. We spent the day alone together, unwrapping gifts, leisurely cooking a late lunch before eating, then watching TV.

This year, for the first time since 1999, I'll wake up at Christmas alone and unexcited, with no one to hug and hand a present to, hoping they'll be delighted by it. Instead, I'll be at my parents' home with my siblings. We'll try to be cheerful and not lapse into the habitual arguments and rivalries we have nursed since childhood. We'll eat vast amounts and make jokes and tease each other in exactly the same ways as we've always done - though we're Sikhs, we've always celebrated Christmas with as much gusto as anyone. It will be a reassuring and familiar but slightly hollow experience for me, I'm sure.

But this morning, I got an email from a friend whose emigration to South Africa has fallen through. He was hoping to start a new life but faces spending Christmas stuck in his old one. He has no family, having been taken into care aged 12 after his father put him in hospital for the second time. Since then, his life has been one disaster after another. He reminds me of how fortunate I am.

I won't have the merriest Christmas ever, but I'll have a better one than many. I'll be in the company of people I love, who've always supported me, especially since my separation. So, despite everything, I'll still have a Christmas to be grateful for.