Community spirit is piling up alongside the parcels Peak online Christmas shopping day happened earlier this week. I was online, you were online, the whole world seemed to be online. Our debit card payments clogged the system: paying up took longer than we were used to. And now comes the logjam! All those parcels are winging their way to our front doors. I have about six currently in transit. But, of course, I am not at home when they call, am I? I am out and about, working or shopping or singing Christmas carols. So what happens to the deliveries? I am delighted the Royal Mail recently gave up on those depressing notes that told you to come to collect your package at some remote and unwelcoming building tucked behind the railway station (in my case, Euston). Instead, we got a circular asking whether we preferred parcels to be left with neighbours. Oh, yes, so much better. Now the neighbourhood is awash with our deliveries, standing in neighbours" hallways, tucked in outdoor cupboards, palmed off on the long-suffering who have their own parcels to worry about. Why can't department stores provide seats where those who need to rest their feet - people with dodgy hips and bunions - can take the weight off their legs for a moment or two? It seems so simple. And it would pay off in terms of happy customers able to stay longer and buy more. When I first visited the west London shopping megalopolis that is Westfield, I was delighted to find how many sofas were dotted round the place simply for visitors to sit on. Now there seem to be fewer of these, and if you want to rest it comes at the cost of a coffee. For an ageing population, but one still lively enough and keen to be out and about, chairs make a big difference. Will all those "customer care" departments take notice? Come on, John Lewis, lead the way! I love knowing how other people spend their money, which makes the Office for National Statistics" latest family spending survey favoured reading. I am intrigued by what it tells me of other lives. Unsurprisingly, people are spending less on fuel, power and household services, which must mean they are cutting down consumption. I understand that: I go round turning down the thermostats on the radiators. But then I notice that spending on leisure services has gone up. How is that compatible with people cringing with cold, huddled in their scruffy homes (spend on cleaners, gardeners and au pairs has declined)? People are clearly unwilling to give up life's little comforts: spending on cakes, biscuits and chocolate are all up. I can understand that, too. But where is that extra leisure spend going? I was shocked when a taxi driver told me recently how costly a ticket for a decent football match can be - as much as a seat in a West End theatre. I shouldn't have been surprised. Not long ago a friend and I posed a question. A grand night out at the Royal Opera House or a top flight Arsenal match at the Emirates stadium: which would cost more? In the event, football was the most expensive. So perhaps the increased leisure spend is down to all those loyal fans refusing to give up their weekly pleasure. Or are they all storming the Opera House? Somehow, I don't think so.