Here I am, writing to you from Limmud's annual conference in Birmingham.

I have been sent to cover the conference for the JC - and it's my first visit to the event set to attract a record 2,700 participants this year.

First impressions?

This is the place where Christmas has come to die a sudden death.

There are no Christmas classics still playing in the background. There's only a fragment of forgotten tinsel still hanging. There are no jolly hats on staff and there are no turkey sandwiches or pudding drenched in custard options on the primarily vegetarian menu.

Pulling up outside the Hilton hotel, where the main event is being held, Christmas trees were replaced with event volunteers waving foam fingers under two Limmud flags which have been proudly erected outside the venue.

I instantly felt thankful for having crammed in as much Christmas spirit as possible before coming here.

Yesterday, I had ventured off to Sadler's Wells to watch Matthew Bourne's Sleeping Beauty ballet. Ahead of that, I pushed myself into attending Brent Cross' Boxing Day sales. On Christmas Day itself, I sat around the table with my large family and tucked into the biggest kosher turkey you could imagine, with all the trimmings. And on Christmas Eve, I sat in an Irish pub with the most festive folk you could imagine.

To me, taking part in Christmas, in your own way, is one of the best things about being British.

I see the logic in bypassing a Christian festival at a Jewish conference, but that doesn't make me miss it any less.

After a jacket potato lunch, I asked two Limmudniks whether they missed partaking in Christmas by attending this conference during the festive season?

They shrugged.

One replied: "I never celebrated it growing up.

"If I see a Christmas tree, I think: 'Christian'. Being at Limmud now, I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything."

Sorry folks. It's sad, but true.

Santa is not welcome here.