So this is Christmas...

... well I have done some good things this year.

I've supported some charities, given food to elderly people, supported some local businesses, been occasionally kind, tried to help some homeless people in an ineffectual manner and returned a lost cat.

I've kept a commitment to this blog. I've eaten a lot of vegetables. I've written two essays and twelve blog posts. I've remembered birthdays. I've done a very decent amount of exercise and meditated more than any previous year.

But Father Christmas might recall me losing my temper a few times and being hysterical. He might note my hubristic dreams and self-centredness. He might scratch off my benefits to the animals by my continued cheese consumption and failure to keep my creatures teeth and gums in optimum condition.

If I could do this year again, I'd have been a better friend to Linda in the time I had. I'd have been a better sister to Gary and Elise when I was in Devon. I'd have been less tetchy with my father. I'd have been less certain of my own rightness and moral wisdom.

We all need a saviour. We all seek one from outside. And, for sure, the outside helps. A lot. It makes a difference to have friends and family, a caring community and a well-run, just nation with adequate welfare.

Inside, though, is the saviour without which none of this is any good. The one who notes our failings, but with compassion. The one who helps us be our best selves. The one who makes us feel that it's worth the effort.

Some call it Jesus, some call it Mohammed. I'm sure there are other names and conceptions. I call it conscience. It doesn't matter much: like a rose, the real thing really does smell as sweet.

May this saviour be born to all this Christmas.