Rebecca Moore praises the festive season volunteers but won’t be joining them

Each year, around this time, I contemplate volunteering some of my time to help those less fortunate over the Christmas period. I’ve even thought about helping out at a soup kitchen on Christmas Day itself... when I’ve really been gripped by 21st- century middle-class guilt.

However, of course, this contemplation usually lasts about 20 seconds – while reaching for the brie in Tesco, for example – before I remember how much I truly love Christmas.

I couldn’t give it up for anyone.

I’m simply not willing to give up my food-fuelled, blob-fest extravaganza spent with my nearest and dearest.

I’ve just got to remember that special feeling of slow expansion over the course of three days while watching Doctor Who and wearing a paper hat and any idea of genuine acts of charity go completely up the chimney.

But this year, a friend of mine is going down to her local soup kitchen for two hours on Christmas day. Two whole hours. On Christmas day. She’s practically a saint.

And now I have The Guilt. It is the guilt that only comes this time of year because it is the time of year when you can so starkly contrast your holiday with somebody else’s and know how very lucky you are.

So when my friend told me – and she wasn’t even righteous about telling me – that she was spending two hours of her precious Christmas Day spooning lunch on to plates for people who would otherwise be alone, cold and hungry, I gulped back guilt.

But it shamed me enough to start Googling what volunteering opportunities are available in Oxford.

The last charitable thing I did was donate to Wikipedia last week, and that was only after getting fed up of months of their advert asking me to.

And I did feel better about using the site afterwards – I felt justified once more.

But still, it took me a few minutes and a card payment.

It did nothing to justify my whole existence.

Anyway, suffice to say that I’m not volunteering this year and I very much doubt I’ll do it next year or any other year after that.

I’m not wired that way – which is basically the same as saying I’m way too selfish to give up my joy in order to raise somebody else’s unhappiness to at least “kind of OK”.

But here’s to the good people who will be looking after others while the rest of us wallow in mulled glory.

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