Christmas has a peculiar weight to it. Expectations have been piled on top of each other since childhood fuelled by Christmas music with fairytale optimism and films that ensure that no matter how wretched or cold-hearted everybody in the end is swept up into the giant maw of kindly, all-encompassing "Christmas Spirit." Life, is inevitably more complicated. And partly because of these impossible expectations, those outside the golden halo of a warm household feel the chill of grief or loneliness or just the overall blahs more acutely. Would that we could dilute this overly saccharine concentrate of good cheer and good will to all doled out in syrupy portions for a week at the end of the year and spread it out for 12 months instead.