The way we celebrate Christmas has changed immensely over the years. Before the introduction of television, families would gather for the festive season and entertain each other with recitals, parlour games, card games, walks, meals - or a combination of all five.
With the TV era came special programming to appeal to family audiences. A blockbuster film or a favourite comedy duo (Morecambe and Wise, for many years) became the cornerstone of the Christmas Day schedule. And, of course, nestling neatly in the post-dinner slumber slot was The Queen’s Speech.
But in recent years we’ve seen the dawn of a new era, that of satellite TV offering different channels in multiple rooms, added to the draw of computer games so that families are suddenly spreading themselves all over the house.
Online gaming means that some presents take youngsters away from families and into the solitude of their bedroom as they interact with people from the other side of the world, shooting imaginary enemies or racing against them on a mock grand prix.
Not too many years ago three generations could be found crouching over the throttles of a new Scalextric set, but now the key figure in that trio, the young son, is more likely to be in a separate room, logging on to do battle with unseen and unknown strangers.
It’s not just online gaming that is ripping the heart out of family Christmases, though.
Social networking sites, message boards, webcams and chatrooms are all drawing us away from the cosy get-togethers that typified years gone by.
With the boom in popularity of social network sites such as Facebook and Bebo, it’s never been easier to give friends a minute-by-minute account of what’s going on in our lives, to such an extent that we probably spend more time tapping away at a keyboard and staring at a monitor than actually talking to the people who should be the most important part of our lives.
Let’s be honest, though, when we update our ‘current status’ to announce to all and sundry that ‘Tess is ... opening another bottle of red wine’ is it really enriching the lives of all who know us?
Wouldn’t we be better off opening the bottle of wine and enjoying it while we share it with those in the house?
Message boards and chatrooms are almost addictive in their nature. We long to know that someone thinks the note we’ve just posted is worthy of responding to, let alone reading, so we disappear into the computer room and hit the refresh key for the latest update, only to be wound up by some nerd with a putdown comment that simply has to be responded to.
MSN and Skype are great for allowing us to gather the family around the webcam so that can wish Aunty Mabel in Australia a Happy Christmas, but once the call has finished it’s impossible to turn off the PC, isn’t it.
"I’ll just check a few websites to see what’s happening in the world," we say, and before we know it we’re filling in a tax return online.
Don’t scoff, the Inland Revenue will testify that Christmas Day is a busy time for their website. And then there’s the goods on offer at Boxing Day sales.
We’ll have to check what’s available online, and whether there is actually anything to be gained by joining the hoards at the shopping centre the next day. And maybe the new game you bought isn’t working properly, so there must be a forum for disgruntled fellow users who might have had previous problems and who have posted their solutions for all to share. More time online!
So is it worth trying to safeguard your family Christmas this year, or will you find it a lost cause?
Maybe we should put some rules in place.
* No MSN-ing, Facebooking or Skyping until at least after tea.
* No checking for emails. If you want to wish someone Happy Christmas pick up the phone. Is texting allowed? Oh, all right.
* Absolutely no online gaming. Wait until Boxing Day.
* No access to forums or message boards.
* If any computer games are to be played, they’re only allowed if you show Grandpa how to master the handset too.
In fact, how about a complete blackout of anything related to computers? Just for one day. It would be pure bliss, but the withdrawal symptoms by Boxing Day would be like cold turkey ... which, when you think about it, would be wholly appropriate.
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