If only Christmas could be more like the ads.

I was all set to write about the wonders of Christmas as portrayed by the advertising gurus – and I will tell you about my favourites.

In the meantime, however, we hear of a bombing in Turkey and, even more horrific, an attack on a Coptic chapel in Cairo, known to be a place where women and children gather to worship.

It is beyond belief how inhuman people can be. I can only think these terrorists do not have the imagination or intelligence to know the extreme pain they are causing. They just don’t function within normal human compassion or fear or mercy.

There is no time when these obscene attacks are acceptable but they always seem so much worse at this time of the year when we are supposed to be talking about peace on earth and goodwill to all men.

As I said, if only Christmas could be the way the advertisers picture it.

The three doing the rounds on Facebook at the moment are the John Lewis one, Macy’s and one which I think is advertising a course to teach Polish people English.

The John Lewis one certainly has the cute factor with foxes and a badger bouncing on a newly erected trampoline while the family dog watches on.

As I say, it is cute but I can’t say I really understand it so it rates only third out of the three I have seen.

Number two is the Macy’s ad. That is quite moving. It starts with a wide-eyed little boy watching the New York store’s annual parade. A huge helium Santa drifts by, looks down at the boy and winks. The ad then proceeds to take us through many more parades as the man grows older until, finally, he is elderly and alone – and a helium Santa floats by his window and winks at him!

Drum roll for number one: the English lessons.

When my husband and I decided to take our baby boy to live in New Zealand, we had no idea that it would be 11 years before we would see a member of our family again.

Then my parents, who were living in Sri Lanka, decided to pay us an extended visit on their way back to UK.

To say we were excited is an understatement.

To both our kids, grandparents were disembodied voices at the end of the telephone – when phoning overseas was a big deal – or exciting presents in the post at Christmas.

The big day arrived and we were at the airport at least two hours early, just in case!

The reunion was wonderful but it was the next morning that moved me to tears.

The children crept quietly into our room to announce that gran and granddad still weren’t up and did I know when they would waken?

They then confessed that, on the way home from the airport, they had been pinching each other just to make sure they were not dreaming!

I’ve given away the ad now but I will describe it, anyway.

An older man sends away for English lessons and begins practising every minute he can. He labels everything in the house, including the dog, with its English names and picks up some saltier language from an English film he sits through.

Then you see him boarding a plane, getting into a taxi and stopping outside a house where he is embraced by a man who is obviously his son.

Then comes the moment when I cry and when the reason for the English lessons becomes apparant.

A little girl, probably about three years old, peeks shyly around a door.

The man gets down on one knee, holds out his hand and says: “Hello. I am your grandfather.”

Despite the horrors of the world, the best I could wish you this year is to have a Christmas that may be next year’s ad.