More gifts, more food, more friends, more social occasions! More bonhomie, more energy, more family, more deadlines! 'MORE' my lost to do lists shriek. 'MORE' my brain shouts as I attempt to go to sleep. 'MORE' my diary squeals, as we squeeze in one more quick drink with friends.
It is not surprising that for me and many others, the most precious thing at Christmas time is finding beauty in the simple things, the quiet things and the real things. I love the handmade, the gifts that are thoughtful and quirky, the time to connect with something made with human hands.
You can get back to the raw, improvised roots of Christmas in the simplicity of the nativity scene. The animal's manger niftily converted into a cradle and the circle of very random well-wishers around the new baby (I'm willing to bet wise men didn't habitually hang out with Shepherds in barn yards). Baby Jesus had his Mum and Dad and was well fed and cosy. That's all babies care about, but for reasons closer aligned with the profit margins of large corporations than what the Baby Jesus liked, we have made Christmas into the biggest hullabaloo in the Western calendar.
It's for this reason I'm spending this Christmas in a desperate attempt to reconnect with those lost things - the handmade, the precious, the humble and the 
beautiful.
Olivier Dupon in his new book 'The New Artisans' says he has witnessed first-hand how strongly people crave the handmade, the quirky and the traditional.
"There must surely be an element of nostalgia too – a longing for a time when everyday objects were handmade...when they were not so immediately disposable...and when they were precious and prized by comparison with the current over availability of products churned out by factories."
His book chronicles what artisans are doing around the world, reviving the skills that were abandoned a generation ago, but reinventing them to fit our modern tastes. The results are especially delightful after an afternoon's frustrated wandering in the local shopping centre looking for special gifts in a world where everything and nothing is special.
It features artists such as Puddin' Head in Sydney, Australia and is produced by Richard McAdams who screen prints and embroiders and whose fondness for animals and folk tales shines through in his work.
"My pieces are made with such love and attention to detail that would just not be there in a mechanised process. As a result I think there is an integrity in my work." (www.puddinghead.com.au)
Severija Incirauskaite-Kriauneviciene in Lithuania cross stiches frying pans. A specialised but wonderful art practice that I feel the world is richer for.
While I'm not quite at the cross stitching frying pan level, I've tried my best this Christmas. The gifts resting under my tree are wrapped in newspaper, twine and hand-made coloured tags. The tree is a DIY effort and so are its decorations. The dinner waiting to be cooked is sourced from the family farm of our local butcher and the vegetables from local gardens. Eggs from a friendly local chicken will be devoured as devilled eggs and pavlova and this year our herbs will be our own.
Our own humble nativity scene will be built out of love, necessity, budget and slightly random elements, just like the original. Can't do better than that.
