Less than a week ago most gifts weren’t wrapped, some not even bought, writes Shirley Tart.

By Christmas afternoon one woman was on e-Bay flogging candlesticks given that morning by her sister-in-law and boasting about it. While hundreds more were preparing to swap, return, sell their Christmas presents or throw them casually into the “unwanted” cupboard. What a cynical, selfish, grasping culture.

The commercial run-up to Christmas puts crippling pressure on people to spend what they haven’t got, blackmails them into corners, offers buy now and pay in Olympics year and helps everyone break their bank.

Then, when some poor soul has bought offerings they can’t afford but which they hope will be received with delight, the ungrateful, ungracious oik unwrapping them tosses the gift and the thought aside, sells it on or, at the very least, complains about it. If that’s what Christmas means to you, how very, very sad!

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Mind you, hope (and expectations) spring eternal. On Boxing Day, one would-be helpful commentator was solemnly advising that planning for next Christmas should start now by saving £5 a week which by next December would add up to £260.

Somebody knows their maths. But I don’t think many people wondering how to pay the debts for this one will be quite in the mood for saving for the next. For millions, life is nowhere near as simple as that.

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And while we’re at it, what’s with being one of thousands who stand on pavements half the night to be first in and beat the chaotic rush at a sale?

Somebody, somewhere must have captured a real bargain, but those friends I’ve known to take these extreme journeys have mostly admitted (privately) that it just wasn’t worth it. And in my own experience, the best bargains come when you least expect them -. like a bleak January day at the end of a sale when every other sane person is tucked up at home.

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I love cruising. Maybe it’s something to do with being an island race, but there is a definite call of the sea which I know is shared by so many of us.

And the whole experience of travelling the world’s oceans and nations, without having to unpack again and thoroughly enjoying shipboard life, is a real holiday.

The flip side is if you should get stuck with or cornered by someone you’d rather have left ashore. Like John Prescott for instance. What on earth was the new luxury liner Queen Mary 2 doing signing him up as a guest speaker? Serves them right that the blunt-to-the-point-of-rude ex-politician apparently dished out jokes which went down like lead balloons with his upmarket fellow cruisers.

Complaints included “stumbling performances, tripping over his words, losing his notes and descending to questionable jokes” – including those about packs of knickers bought for wife Pauline.

Well people, what did you expect? However, since his performance neither he nor Pauline have been seen outside their first class, freebie cabin – normally priced at nearly £10,000 apiece. A fellow passenger said they could have picked up the mild novovirus, which some had caught, or maybe he was embarrassed after his speech gaffe. John Prescott embarrassed? Don’t be silly. Along with a lot of other big words, that’s not in his vocabulary.

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I wonder what did attract 24-year-old model Chrystal Harris to 84-year-old Playboy tycoon Hugh Hefner who has a £200 million fortune in his piggy bank?

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And finally for this year: all good wishes for a bright, peaceful, healthy and fulfilling 2011. In other words, a happy new year, everyone. See you in January!