Well, obviously there was. And it was probably as rampant and family-destroying as it is nowadays. But as an over-excited sprat at Christmas, you were blissfully unaware of all the desperate chaos. As far as you were concerned, the only person who did all the graft at Christmas was Santa and his terrified elves working their fingers bloody in his sweatshops. But a central reason as to why Christmas remains so magical to kids and so p*ss-boiling to adults is being cheerfully oblivious to the bug-eyed fist fights on Black Friday, the tears caused by a decimated bank account and the setting of commercial standards that no family can live up to. As a kid, you lived in an enchanted fairyland where all was sugar plums and snow. And not eleven pints at the end of your Christmas shopping to take the edge off.