I have just been informed by a reliable source that this is the season of goodwill to all men (and women). In the spirit of national reconciliation that I now intend to jump-start, I shall tell you a light-hearted Christmassy story to warm the cockles of your heart, whatever those may be.

Gather round the Yule log with your children and significant others, and their children, your boyfriends and girlfriends, pets and parents - and why not ask your guest workers, legal and illegal, to join in the fun? Have everyone settle in while I think of something to write.

I had intended to tell you the story of two guys I was going to call Sven and Johnny, but my editor tells me those names now signify something or other not relevant to my story, because this Christmas tale is about two Bermudians.

I suppose I'll have to call them Johnny and Johnny. No, that won't work. Frankie and Johnny are two Bermudian men, in their mid-40s. They went Whitney together, back in the day. Frankie is good with his hands, where Johnny is more of a brainbox.

Both men are married and have remained faithful to their lovely wives. (This is fiction, remember). Frankie works in construction, earning $1,000 a week. Johnny is a vice president with an international insurance company, so he makes twice as much.

Both men's wives work too, so both families enjoy good incomes.

Frankie is old school. He and his wife sit down at the start of each year and make a budget for what they will earn and spend during the year, and how they will invest the money they save. They always read this column and have picked up lots of tips (hey, it's my story and I'll say what I like).

Frankie and his missus never miss their mortgage payments, carry small balances on their credit cards occasionally, and generally don't worry too much about the future.

Johnny and his wife are something else. Because his job is not very demanding, Johnny spends a lot of his day online, looking for things to buy and exotic places to visit.

Whenever their children ask for the latest gadget, they each get one. Johnny's very proud that his yard is bigger than the people next door's, and Johnny's wife has more jewellery than Tiffany's. They spend half their weekends in New York City.

When Johnny and his wife think about money, it sort of freaks them out, so they don't think about it much. Johnny's argument is that, providing everything carries on the way it is, they'll be fine.

Now we jump forward a few years, to let's say 2015. Much has changed. Bermudians finally learned to drive on the left, although only because the country officially switched to driving on the right in 2012. The Government publishes the only daily newspaper, "The Bermuda Progressive". Dale Butler is making a fortune selling reverse fishcakes.

Frankie's daughter is at university and his son will be joining her next year. Frankie took a loan from HSBC Gutterfield (get it?) to pay for their college education and used the family's home as collateral.

Frankie and his wife don't have much spending money these days, especially since the insurance industry moved to Dublin. But Frankie does odd jobs in the evening and weekends and the couple has dipped into their savings from time to time to make ends meet. They get by.

Johnny's not doing so well. He and his wife broke up. After finding out that Johnny had two girlfriends, Johnny's wife ran off to Sri Lanka with Colonel Burch, where he manages an airline on a work permit. Johnny's son is in jail for smuggling weed, which Johnny feels doubly bad about, because it was his idea in the first place. Johnny has been taking money from his parents, but it never seems to last.

So now it's the week before Christmas 2015. It's 110 degrees outside, because of global warming, and President Al Gore won't shut up about how right he was all along. Bono is Britain's Finance Minister. Bermuda has four main political parties, all confusingly called the PLP.

Frankie and Johnny meet at the Specialty Inn for lunch, as they have done every year since they were kids, on the last working day before Christmas. Until now Johnny always paid, but this year he asks Frankie to pay.

Johnny is angry. He wishes this and that hadn't happened and talks about how he might have to move to New York or Atlanta, to start again. He doesn't much like Premier Thaao Dill and, in short, he blames everyone but himself for everything that's gone wrong in his life.

Frankie doesn't say much. He never does, really. For years, he's been listening to Johnny talk about all the money he was going to make and all the trips he was taking.

Frankie and his family only ever had one trip a year, usually to see his wife's parents, never anywhere very exciting, if you don't count the year they went to Dockyard.

You get the picture. And I'm sure you already understand the moral. Think. Plan. Cut your cloth according to your means. Set something aside for a rainy day.

Don't judge a book by its cover. Read Martha Myron's column. Read this column. Borrow money to buy a home, but not to buy things. Homes last; most things don't. Be faithful to your spouse, or don't get married in the first place. Put family first.

If you do all those things, there is no guarantee that life will work out, but you'll stand a much greater chance. You only get one go around and if you act recklessly and don't pay attention, you could end up in a hole.

Vow to be nice to people starting now, to recapture some of that lost Bermuda spirit. And be nice to yourself. You deserve it. And while you take all this on board, have yourselves a merry little Christmas.