Consumerism has taken over Christmas. This year, we’re choosing to strip it back to the things that matter: family, love and our planet

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It was one those perfect, golden October days and I was standing in the middle of a beautiful field, taking in the natural beauty of the pond surrounded by weeping willows, the orchards of fruit trees, swaying grasses and decade old hedges, when an idea hit me.

What if my relatives all embraced sustainable gifting this Christmas, giving only homemade, recycled, regifted, or charity shop presents?

The location for my inspiration was fitting. The piece of Leicestershire land my family had gathered in that day was the one my 82-year-old dad, Jim, had worked his whole life. We often gravitated there to feel grounded, reconnect with each other and the natural world. The outdoor space had also become my family’s sanctuary during the stresses and worries of the pandemic.

That particular Saturday, we’d joined together to help my brother-in-law Jason with his latest project: a no-dig vegetable patch. Jason, who works for the National Trust, had seen the method used on one of the Trust farms and was keen to try it on our field - one that had remained unchanged since we’d built dens there as kids.

Traditions

As my parents picked the last of the plums from the orchard, and the six children of my four siblings and I blasted around climbing trees and filling their wellies with mud on the edge of the pond, committing to an eco-friendly Christmas seemed the perfect fit for us.

We were all Christmas mad, a trait inherited from my mum Mij and Dad. They’d once been a young couple with five children under 10 and only one income, yet somehow always made Christmas magical for us.

They did it with a home-grown feast on our kitchen table come Christmas Day. The same Christmas tree carefully dug up annually from its spot in the garden and decorated indoors until you couldn’t see the branches anymore. Gifts stuffed into pillowcases. Dad even pulled on his wellies in the small hours of Christmas morning to leave muddy ‘Santa’ footprints on scraps of newspaper trailing from the fireplace to tree.

These were traditions we’d all absorbed and now enacted with our own kids, including shouting up the chimney on Christmas Eve to tell Santa what we hoped to find under the tree the next morning.

When we all gather now, there’s 19 of us, but we’ve instinctively kept that magic alive over the years, coming together on Christmas Day for a big, chaotic meal. This year, it’s my turn to host and following the pandemic and the cruel annexation of last year’s celebrations, I’m determined to make it special.

That day in October, as I watched my family working together in the autumn sunshine, I reflected on our good fortune.

In spite of the pandemic, not only was there an opportunity to revive the family traditions that had always glued us together, but also room for fresh rituals that embraced our collective love of the environment. Ones our children could pass to their own families in years to come.

Planting the seed

A few days later, I texted my family on our group chat. How about this year we embrace sustainable gifting – homemade, recycled, regifted, charity shop bought or promises?

I wasn’t certain of the reaction I’d get. We’re all busy people and a certain level of commitment and creativity would be required to get such a tradition off the ground. But, there was immediate enthusiasm for the idea and we eventually agreed on one gift per family, with the option to bend the rules for the children.

Within days, Jason had requested used, wooden pallets to build a composter for the vegetable patch, while my niece Freya, 12, was keen to get involved by sewing gifts. Vince, another brother-in-law and talented baker, pledged to cook a batch of his legendary pork pies. 

Meanwhile, I collected oddments of wool from friends who like to knit, and used online tutorials to brush up my rusty crochet skills. I crafted a wool seagull mounted on a log from our wood pile, and made some drag-queen toilet roll covers involving charity shop Action Man toys in crocheted costumes in homage to RuPaul.

The rest of the family have kept their gifting plans secret, but between them share a range of skills including willow weaving, woodwork, pottery, cookery, art, sewing, knitting, music, car repair, DIY, plumbing, electrics, photography, and even baby-sitting.

This Christmas Day, our house will be bursting with family aged from five to 82. Everyone will bring a dish to add to the huge feast on the kitchen island. Plates will be passed round, chairs will be gathered from all corners of the house and garden, and Dotty, our ancient Jack Russell terrier, will position herself under the table to catch tasty tidbits passed to her by the children. 

Afterwards my son, Isaac, 26, will play silly games with the younger grandchildren – their favourite is that one where someone gets splatted in the face with squirty cream. Dad will fall asleep in front of the telly and some of us will try to burn off a few calories with a walk around the village in this gorgeous corner of Leicestershire we love so much.

Then we’ll open the gifts. This year, they’ll feel more personal, more special than ever. I know I won’t be alone in feeling that the best and most enduring gift of them all is the fact we are all here together, again – just as we’ve always been.

• For easy ideas on how to be more mindful of our environment visit WWF, Butterfly Conservation, Imperial College London or read about veganism here.