As those of a certain age will know, turkey at Christmas (or at any other time of the year) is a fairly recent phenomenon for all but the comfortably off. In my childhood it used to be chicken on Christmas Day – I can recall having a duck on occasions – with perhaps a piece of pork, followed by the King’s speech on the wireless, the old man having a kip on the sofa for an hour or so, and then sandwiches, Newmarket and ha’penny nap, in that order.

It was the advent of television which changed things, or perhaps things changed at about the time that television became both popular and available. Either way, it changed and there is little doubt that people are now better off materially than in those good old days – which actually were not that great other than we seemed to have a lot more fun.

Perhaps in my case the laughter temporarily erased – or at least fudged – the memories which I’d prefer not to recall. That said, there were very many more youngsters of my generation who experienced real hardship and unhappiness in the homes – and not just at Christmas – than I ever did.

I always find it odd that Christmas invariably brings back memories of childhood, but there again, Christmas is a very special time for children, although these days they are a good deal more self assured than they ever were in my day.

Herself and I were at Ransoms Garden Centre last week, having afternoon tea with a couple of old and very good friends. I don’t usually listen to conversations at the next table but on this occasion it was unavoidable.

This young mother came in with three youngsters, probably aged between six and nine, and, having joined her friend at the next table to ours, started telling her about a visit to Father Christmas by her children or, to be more precise, the smallest of the three.

As the conversation developed, it became apparent that, on being asked what she wanted Father Christmas to bring her, the youngster replied: ‘Well, I haven’t actually made a final decision yet.’ If that’s what she’s like at what looked like no more than six or seven at most, what’s she going to be like in 15 years time.

I must admit that I apologised to this young mum for, albeit inadvertently, listening to her conversation because all four of us burst out laughing when she got to the punch line. And while I’m at it, these three children behaved absolutely perfectly, even in the play area, in marked contrast to the gang of miniature hooligans which – alright, I am going to exaggerate a bit – all but terrorised the cafe/restaurant at another garden centre out west a few days later.

Not content with having a play area all to themselves, this particular half dozen also though it fun to noisily distribute some of the contents of that play area around the place – while their respective parents seemed oblivious to all but their conversations and their mobile phones.

In addition to reminiscing about childhood, this time of the year is also about looking to the future and it certainly doesn’t seem like well over a decade ago that we were on the eve of a new millennium – a time, as I recall, of great hope for the future being expressed by communities all over the world.

Well, in many respects we’ve seen that hope all but evaporate. Terrorism, always evil and frightening, took on a terrible new dimension, principally in, but certainly not confined to, the United States.

Natural disaster – Haiti, the Philippines and the Indian sub-continent are but three areas which spring to mind – again took their toll, the victims, as seems to be the case more often than not, those least able to cope. And then there was the new (to the present generations) and terrible tsunami which has struck twice in the last decade, each time with devastating effect.

But it is not all doom and gloom, either at home or abroad. The Arab Spring has brought new hope to people living in the iron grip of dictatorship and oppression and while it is wrong to welcome anyone’s death, perhaps recent events in North Korea might bring hope to that region also.

At home, this small community has just experienced what must be the worst decade in terms of politics and government in generations. Never in my lifetime has the standing of the institution of government been held in such low esteem – esteem that on occasions has bordered on utter contempt.

The result of the recent election for Senators provided confirmation – as if any were needed – of just how fed up the electorate had become with the rabble rousing sound bites, the politics of envy and the sheer pointlessness of much of what our elected representatives managed to fill their time with.

Two men topped the poll without resorting to what I have just described. Sir Philip Bailhache and Ian Gorst clearly struck a chord with the majority of voters by simply telling it as they saw it and, I am delighted to say, that seems to have struck a similar chord with many of their colleagues who sit on the plush red leather in the Big House.

I was very heartened by the words of senior Deputy Rob Duhamel in his close of play speech when he spoke of optimism he hadn’t felt for a long time and a new mood in the House which could well heal the rifts.

And finally,

That seems to me to be a most appropriate note on which to end this last column of 2011. A happy, healthy and prosperous 2012 to everyone.