IS it purely a coincidence that the word “grotto” is but a single letter away from the word “grotty”? It’s that time of year again; a time that harkens, like the herald angels, the fact that Christmas is but six weeks away.

On Friday, Harrods, that Knightsbridge altar to consumerism, opened its Christmas grotto. Suited and booted weans will find themselves sat on the lap of a superiorly dressed Santa that smells of Givenchy rather than gin. But though I searched online to see what the world’s most famous department store offers by way of a grotto experience, I could only find this wee paragraph:

“The Grotto is now fully booked for 2017. To discover the latest children’s events and to be the first to know about the 2018 Harrods Christmas Grotto …” Fully booked; the day before it actually opens. Scotland will similarly embrace all things Christmassy. In what is described as six weeks of winter wonderland, our capital city will be at the heart of the festivities. “Edinburgh is the place to be at Christmastime … [with] the fabled European Christmas market with dozens of stalls selling traditional trinkets and crafts as well as delicious Teutonic treats (and, of course, glühwein).”

You can have tea with Santa in South Lanarkshire if you pop down to Chatelherault Country Park. Santa has relocated to Hamilton because his “log cabin at the North Pole has a burst pipe”. (Even Father Christmas has issues finding a decent plumber in the winter.) “Don’t worry,” the marketing pitch continues, “he’s moved into Chatelherault for the whole of December! Take a walk through Rudolph’s stable and prepare your letter with all of your Christmas wishes before visiting Santa himself in his magical log cabin.” Aye. A log cabin with questionable plumbing.

And did you know that at Braehead Shopping Centre you can find Santa’s Cove? The website informs us that the attraction “has been designed as the ultimate family experience. Lasting over an hour, Adults and Children will work together as a team to conquer the many challenges they will encounter. Fidget McPhee and his team of Elves will be on hand to guide you on your mission to help Santa make enough presents for all the good children of the world”. (No mention of the Christmas awaiting those children who are not “good”.)

And trust me, this is just a tiny selection of the myriad ways to celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus and the subsequent founding of the world’s largest religion. Unlike so many of my Christian counterparts I was never subjected to having to visit a Santa’s grotto in a shopping mall off the M74. I’m not even sure we were sold the myth of Father Christmas, a dark-skinned Greek bishop who lived in Turkey but who (like Jesus himself) has undergone something of a “Michael Jackson” racial reinvention into a white man with matching beard.

It does seem completely contradictory that parents put aside their usual mantras of being aware of strangers while they propagate the propaganda that Santa Claus exists and somehow manages to know the contents of the souls of all the Christian children in the Western world. Weans will one day learn the truth and what will they then think of their parents?

As a non-Christian immigrant child from a groovy and religiously open family, I have always walked a line during Christmas. Our family has always had a meal, a gathering, a fairy-topped tree with flashing lights, selection boxes and a modest present exchange. We walked what was sometimes an uncomfortable line between the secular and the religious sides of a winter festival whose origins predate Christ, his birth and over-booked Judean hostelries.

As Christmas becomes more money-minded and each year devolves yet further away from its raison d’etre, I can’t help feeling that the simpler, more family-focused Christmases of my childhood bear a greater affinity to what this festival really ought to be about.

Goes to show that religion has very little to do with Christmas. Hardly breaking news ...