SO Pudsey came and Pudsey went. I caught a glimpse of the oversized teddy bear figure with distinctive red and white spotted bandeau-cum-eye-patch clinging to the loading ramp of a Condor Ferry.

But am I alone in believing that the fundraising events surrounding the annual BBC’s Children in Need appeal were somewhat low-key this year?
I am told that nationally, the pledges hit a record level, but it just seemed that there were fewer people out and about doing silly things to urge us to break open our wallets and flick out the chequebooks.

Though there’s no doubting the enthusiasm of the participants, the event itself has become established and predictable. This year it happened to coincide with the annual appeal in commemoration of the nation’s heroes, which according to the Royal British Legion also achieved record sales of their iconic poppy emblems.

It is not difficult to draw the inference that whether it’s BBC newsreaders dressing up for showy stunts to prompt contributions for disadvantaged youngsters, or serial donation in solemn appreciation of deliverance and sacrifice, the public response in straitened economic times is no less generous.

People have always donated to charitable causes, from gifts left at the base of the Christmas tree in schools, churches or the Royal Square to serious generosity by individuals. Despite the chilly economic climate, Jersey has once again witnessed just such a seasonal gesture in the form of vouchers presented by David Kirsch to all Island residents over 70 years of age.

Generally, however, there appears to be more sensitivity about giving and receiving. We have moved away from the direct person-to-person donations of Victorian times – perhaps it’s considered patronising in the contemporary environment – and replaced it with the welfare state, where all the mechanisms exist to redistribute wealth with no attachment between donor and recipient, and where institutional benefits take the place of generosity, and rights replace gratitude.

We have also embraced a preference for ‘distance giving’. On a personal level, it is an honourable and convenient means for those who wish to contribute to the alleviation of suffering but have neither opportunity nor experience to be directly involved. It is a cause championed by the current UK Prime Minister, though it can be a contentious policy which has earned many critics.

How do you justify increased overseas aid giving when vulnerable folk at home are facing extra hardship? Through no fault of their own, the victims of hunger and disaster have become drawn into a political morality debate, fuelled by ample evidence of corruption and political interference in the field.

Overseas Aid has in fact become a formidable industry, with full-time fundraisers, tax-deductable advisers and international networks which can influence public opinion and exert pressure on governments. Some organisations have become so overtly political and messianic that it is not surprising they have squandered the goodwill of the very donors who have traditionally supported them.

We are fast approaching the season of wall-to-wall giving, when ordinary folk will be cajoled by the usual commercial blitz to splurge out on trivia in order to demonstrate their generosity to friends and family, where ‘all I want for Christmas’ is more likely to refer to a commercial shopping list than peace and goodwill.

Even the Queen’s Royal Collection gift shops appear to have sunk into the spirit, offering Christmas tree decorations of tatty teddies with busbies, rubber duck guardsmen and God save the Queen lollipops to stuff in Christmas stockings. It is reportedly all going down a Crimbo carol with Chinese visitors – but then, they probably made them in the first place.

Despite the economic gloom, there is undoubtedly a determined effort to lift spirits at this time. The newspapers can’t resist publishing surveys about how everyone will be tightening their festive belts, but they have not taken on board the resilience of public and retailers alike.

On the eve of La Fête dé Noué, there was certainly some serious elbow-to-elbow present foraging going on in St Helier last weekend. The traditional January sales are a thing of the past; now, stores focus on tempting customers with bargains when they are programmed to be in a spending mood, rather than gamble on post-Christmas offers when the cash may have run out. In any case, it improves the year-end figures.
But let’s not forget the reason for giving. It is surely the ‘why’ that matters, not the ‘how much’.

Perversely, the current climate could have the effect of making us more prudent in our purchases. This year, there will also be many ‘on-liners’ bidding a Christmas farewell to our maligned local fulfilment industry which has done much to facilitate less expensive but conveniently delivered seasonal gifts to many parts of the UK.

Of course it is easy to poke fun and be cynical, but the Christmas season undoubtedly provides a special focus for giving, to be undertaken with fun – and, yes, a little indulgence.

Charities depend on catching the mood when launching campaigns for causes. It is humbling to discover how so many activities we take for granted depend on charitable giving, and (an element which is often forgotten) the generous contribution to the cause by those who run them. I confess I have no stomach for ‘gesture giving’ – those publicity bashes with so-called celebrity hangers-on aplenty. They might raise expectations, but they seldom live up to their promises.

Generosity flows from confidence. We don’t need the equivalent of the Napoleonic Code to order us to look out for our fellow man. Historically, adversity has never stifled the spirit of sharing. It is therefore not difficult to predict that where Pudsey has trod, others won’t be far behind.