I'M SO wired-up, don't need no coffee in my cup. Not me but Van Morrison. I need plenty of coffee in my cup. Behind this calm exterior, caffeine-coated bullets are ricocheting all over the place.

The quoted lyric comes from Jackie Wilson Said (I’m In Heaven When You Smile) as featured on the 1972 album, St Dominic’s Preview. It’s arguably the best-known song written by Mr George Ivan Morrison, that grumpy glorious son of Belfast, and was composed in honour of the soul singer name-checked in the title.

I’ve listened to Van since those days, seen him many times here in York, but that line jumped out at me afresh the other day when I was out for a run. The infectious energy was enough to put a temporary spring in my step.

As to coffee, it has to be the proper stuff, a costly partiality. I like to buy the beans, Taylor’s Italian blend for preference, and grind them at home. There’s a pleasing jumble of cultures there, Italy and Yorkshire in one brimming cup (well, mug).

At this time of year, coffee makes a decent small present, to oneself if nothing else, but not those gimmicky flavoured coffees, usually some form of aberration, coffee tasting of nuts or whatever. But if anyone has bought me such an unfortunately modified thing, I shall smile sweetly, because it’s Christmas, a week today as it happens, in case you haven’t noticed.

In thinking of a topic for this column while letting the pavement punish my feet, I wondered what I thought of Christmas nowadays. I confess to being a little conflicted, rather disliking the long build-up, the attendant money worries and the tinsel-wrapped deadline.

So I turn mildly grumpy for a while, but enjoy Christmas when it arrives. I’ve seen a few, almost too many to mention. Now they all line up, like cards strung up down the years. That’s another thing: does everyone send fewer and fewer cards? My perfunctory writing of cards to post takes less and less time each year.

People always say that Christmas is about families and the joys and tensions they bring. Too much to eat, too much to drink and longer than usual spent in the company of relations is either a pleasure if you’re lucky or the ingredients for one of Alan Ayckbourn’s darkly shaded comedies if the opposite is the case. Not everyone has someone to be with, and that’s another challenge at a time of enforced jollity and nationally imposed cheeriness.

As for me, well, you don’t have a wife and a daughter and get away with being downbeat about Christmas for long. The Michael Bublé CD has been dragged out again from wherever I forgot to hide it last year; the Christmas tree bought at York Market is now standing the in corner of the living room, bedecked in baubles and slippery loops of glitter. The other night the Christmas cake was baked, so I’d better cheer myself up.

As to seasonal music, my favourite Christmas CD of all time remains the one by Bruce Cockburn, called simply Christmas. This came out in 1983 and apart from one song contains traditional carols and songs, rearranged by Cockburn.

As far as I know, Van Morrison has never released a Christmas album. Perhaps he isn’t a the Christmas type.
 

ACCORDING to my Sunday newspaper, the Tories ‘bought’ themselves an early Christmas present by slipping through an unprecedented hike in the amount that the political parties can spend in the election campaign.

This was reportedly done on the sly and against the recommendations of the Electoral Commission.

David Cameron’s party has done this for the simple reason that it has more money in its bulging wallet that the other parties, having amassed donations of £78 million.

Why anyone should give money to any political party is a mystery to me, but especially to that well-heeled lot. It seems that politics becomes more expensive the less that people are inclined to listen.

Labour accused the Tories of trying to ‘buy’ the election and that’s probably true, but perhaps we as voters should avert our eyes from all the adverts, broadcasts, posters and social media time the money buys. If we are foolish enough to be influenced by such cynical, truth-bending exercises in people fooling, then we get what we deserve, don’t we?

Anyway, a Happy Christmas and all that.