David Williams has the right drink for every moment, from midnight mass to the New Year bells.

No other event has the ability to transform the way we drink quite like Christmas. At this time of year, the otherwise abstemious take to the Harvey's Bristol Cream like Nicolas Cage to the bourbon in Leaving Las Vegas, the otherwise sane come over all creative with eggs and Advocaat, and the idea of mulling wine suddenly makes a strange kind of sense to pretty much everyone.

There are drinks that I wouldn't touch the rest of the year that exercise a magnetic pull on my palate once the EastEnders Christmas special is on. I blame it all on the season's potent mix of sentimentality, nostalgia and arcane family rituals. The reason my sister and I get through gallons of grape-flavoured Shloer at this time of year, for example, has very little to do with its taste (much as I still like it). It's about our memories of drinking this utterly 80s fizzy drink – served in an unbreakable Shell garage-giveaway wine glass – at childhood Christmas dinners while Mum and Dad tucked into their duty-free rioja and asti spumante.

I'm still partial to a dubonnet (or failing that martini) and lemonade on Christmas evening for no other reason than it was my late grandmother's favourite festive tipple (and something I was allowed to drink at Christmastime, in very diluted form, long before I was of legal drinking age). And Christmas Eve in our house wouldn't be Christmas Eve without a glass of the cream sherry (such as the very respectable Harvey's Bristol Cream, £10.30, 1 litre, widely available) that gets left out for Father Christmas.

Christmas drinking isn't all about nostalgia-induced offences against the normal run of taste, however. Indeed, the biggest difference between the holiday week and the rest of the year is the sheer number of occasions when it's deemed acceptable to drink – each of which calls for a glass of something appropriate to the moment. It's as if all social bets are off, and behaviour that would normally have your relatives seeking help on your behalf is actively encouraged. Fancy a glass of fizz a matter of minutes after you've woken up? Go ahead. A G&T; while cooking lunch? Go on, you know you want to. One last whisky before you hit the sack? Why not, it is Christmas, after all.

Christmas Eve

My Christmas usually begins on Christmas Eve with an evening of wrapping presents to the sound of the carol singing from King's College, Cambridge on BBC2. I'd do this while munching a bowl of nuts and sipping a glass of dry sherry, which is somehow in keeping with the donnish atmosphere of the service. Two that I've particularly liked recently are Manzanilla en Rama, Sanlúcar de Barrameda, Jerez, Spain (£9.99, or £7.99 as part of a mixed case, Oddbins), from the trendy Equipo Navazos, a complex, tangy wine full of savoury, salted nut complexity; and the more intense, salty-fresh Hidalgo Manzanilla Pasada Pastrana (£10.99, Majestic), with its long, almond-rich finish.

Christmas Eve continues with a light family meal, usually based on smoked fish, that will act as a pre-administered antidote to the rich food in the days ahead. This calls for white wines with body and depth, and a touch of oak to balance the smoke. Finca Allende Rioja Blanco 2007 (£17.95, Berry Bros & Rudd, slurp.co.uk) is a magnificent example of a modern, barrel-fermented white rioja from one of the region's best new-wave producers, all tropical fruit, broad palate, creamy oak and a fresh lingering finish. Louis Latour's Grand Ardèche Chardonnay Vin de Pays des Coteaux de l'Ardèche 2008 (£8.99, Majestic) is a good value alternative, a kind of mini-mersault produced in the Ardèche from a producer more often associated with burgundy.

Most of us aren't looking to drink too much yet, and for me at least it's still too early to crack open the port, but the next event in the Christmas calendar – the walk to midnight mass – calls for something to fortify you against the cold. A rich, warming red would be my choice. Something like the gutsy, southern Rhône-style AA Badenhorst Secateurs Red Blend, Swartland, South Africa 2009 (£9.99, swig.co.uk) with its succulent mix of dark fruit and wild herbs; or the impressively rich but bright, dark cherry-scented Quinta das Mouras, Vinho Regional Alentejano, Portugal 2009 (£6.99, Laithwaites).

Christmas Day Morning

If you have young children, the morning is all about the frenzied unwrapping of parcels of various bits of Chinese-produced plastic. Two drinks seem to fit the mood, both fizzy, essentially frivolous and light in alcohol: a classic Buck's Fizz or a glass of moscato d'Asti. For the Buck's Fizz, I'd squeeze the orange juice myself and use a simple, inexpensive prosecco: there's no need for anything too smart since the orange juice will drown out any of the wine's complexities. But you don't want anything too acidic as that will overwhelm the orange juice, so the simple, fresh Asda Extra Special Prosecco NV (£7.28, Asda) will do just fine. As for the asti, it all depends on your budget and the sensitivity of your tastebuds at this time of the morning. La Spinetta Moscato d'Asti Bricco Quaglia, Piedmont, Italy 2009 (£11.75, agwines.com) has classic muscat grape flavours balanced by winning, linear acidity. Marks & Spencer's Asti Spumante (£7.49) has plenty of light grapey charm at a somewhat more affordable price.

For me the rest of the morning will be taken up with preparing dinner, and to keep me company in the kitchen I'll open a bottle of another low-alcohol classic with a touch of sweetness: German riesling. Something like the steely, delicate, floral Dr Loosen Urziger Würzgarten Riesling Kabinett, Mosel, Germany 2009 (£13.49, Waitrose) or, for something no less delicate but dry and with slightly higher alcohol, the scintillating Riesling Kabinett Trocken, Prinz Von Hessen, Germany 2008 (£9.99 or £7.99 if you buy two bottles, Majestic) with its citrus and white blossom nose.

Christmas Dinner

Christmas dinner starts with pan-fried scallops or, if our local fishmonger has some, maybe even some oysters. For this we'll need some cool, zippy, refreshing, dry whites, and I'd be happy with any of: Chablis Drouhin-Vaudon, Burgundy, France 2009 (£17.99, Oddbins), which is unoaked and pure, with waxed apple, a mineral kick and a sharp, focused finish; Costero Sauvignon Blanc, Leyda Valley, Chile 2009 ( £6.99 until 31 Jan, Majestic), a great example of cool-climate Chilean sauvignon blanc with tangy gooseberry fruit and a touch of flint; Domaine Gardrat Vin de Pays Charentais Sauvignon Blanc, France, 2009 (£8.50, Yapp Bros, ) which is youthful, lip-smackingly fresh and light; and Quadro Sei Gavi, Italy 2009 (£6.99, Marks & Spencer), a very well-made and affordable Gavi with a fish-friendly draft of preserved lemon.

The bird – and our family usually goes for a turkey – calls for reds that are light in tannins and have good acidity. Five wines that fit this bill are: Secano Estate Pinot Noir, Leyda Valley, Chile 2009 (£7.99, Marks & Spencer), with its wonderful lifted fruit bursting with red cherry and cranberry; the exuberantly crunchy, fragrant Château de la Bonnelière Chinon, Loire Valley, France 2008 (£10.95, Robersons, ); Morgan Marcel Lapierre, Beaujolais 2009 (£18, Whole Foods Market), a wine with all the trademark purity, grace, elegance and depth of the natural wine pioneer, Marcel Lapierre, who died earlier this year; Coste della Sesia Uvaggio, Proprietá Sperino, Piedmont, Italy 2006 (£19.99, Liberty Wines,), a wine with the grace of a top burgundy with real freshness, delicacy and savoury/gamey complexity; and Rippon Central Otago Pinot Noir, New Zealand (£25.50, Lea & Sandeman), a standout example of top New Zealand pinot noir's ability to mix silk and perfume.

The classic Christmas pudding is an overwhelmingly sweet and powerfully flavoured dish that very few wines can withstand. I'd go for something fortified with flavours that echo the dried fruit and spice. Waitrose has two fine candidates: Campbells Rutherglen Muscat, Victoria, Australia NV (£9.99, 37.5cl) which is the definition of sticky – an elixir of raisins, sultanas and citrus peel with a spine of tingling acidity; and the astoundingly complex toffee, spice and cigar box-flavoured D'Oliveiras Reserva Terrantez Madeira 1977 (£55), still youthful after more than 30 years. The rich, hazelnut and dried figs of Vin Santo del Chianti Rufina, Villa di Monte, Italy 1995 comes in at a slightly less extravagant £14.99 from Marks & Spencer.

Christmas After dinner

By this stage it's time to collapse in front of a Christmas TV Event. Something about the dim late-afternoon light and the drowsy mellow feeling makes me think of those two rustic French classics, calvados and armagnac. Two I've enjoyed recently are the luscious Château du Breuil 15-year-old calvados (£53.49, thedrinkshop.com), which is like flambéed tarte tatin in a glass; the Janneau eight-year-old armagnac (£20.49, Waitrose) is all about toffee, spice and wisps of dried fruit. For a slightly smoother, sweeter experience, I'd be happy to sip a balloon of another great French brandy, Hine Rare VSOP Cognac (£41.98, thedrinkshop.com), with its earthy hints of fallen autumnal leaves and spring flowers and its honeyed palate.

At some point in the evening something resembling hunger will return and tradition will call for some stilton (or that wonderful unpasteurised alternative, stichelton) and port. Port offers incredible value for money at this time of year when the main late-bottled vintage brands are almost all on offer somewhere. Some of my favourites from recent tastings include the powerful, dense, grippy Tesco LBV Port 2005 (£8.99), made by the Symington family of Graham's, Dow's and Warre's fame; the vibrant, intensely concentrated, violet and black fruit-scented Quinta do Noval LBV Unfiltered 2004 (£17.99, ocado.com); the mature, silky, complex Fonseca Guimaraens 1996 (£24.99, from £25, Booths, Fortnum & Mason, Selfridges, Waitrose); the multilayered, fresh nuts and dried fruits of Churchill's 20 Year Old Tawny Port (£24.99, or £19.99 as part of a mixed case, Oddbins); and for a truly special treat, 1970 Warre's Vintage Port, which comes in at £110 a bottle from Berry Bros, but which, with its mindboggling complexity and endless ethereal finish, is good value for a truly great wine.

Boxing Day

The morning is very much a time of recovery in our house, a leisurely day when the toys are played with rather than merely glanced, and the adults nurse their hangovers until the next big lunchtime meal, which in our case is roast beef. This is a time for reds with a bit more power, tannin and bite, wines such as: Tejo Touriga Nacional, Portugal (£6.99, Marks & Spencer) with its firm tannic backbone and attractive cherry fruit; Sainsbury's Taste the Difference Crozes-Hermitage, Rhône, France (£8.49) from top producer Michel Chapoutier, which offers black pepper spice and raspberry fruit; Dolines de l'Hortus Coteaux du Languedoc 2008 (£9.49, Laithwaites) with its elegant, silky tannins and spicy red fruit compote; and a good, mature claret, such as 2000 Château Belgrave, Haut-Médoc, Bordeaux (£32.50, The Wine Society), which has mellowed beautifully with soft cassis and cedar wood.

Boxing Day is also the day when a long walk becomes essential to work off some of the excess and to escape the claustrophobia that by now afflicts even the closest families. A hip flask full of that classic ginger liqueur, the sweet, spicy The King's Ginger (£18.35, Berry Bros & Rudd) is a fine way to get the blood going on a cold afternoon; a draft of Stone's Ginger Wine (£4.50 to £5, widely available), shaken with ice and then strained into a vacuum flask, is a slightly less alcoholic alternative.

The difficult days between Christmas and New Year

Spirits, and finances, can flag in this no man's land between Christmas and New Year, when many of us return to work and where the excess can begin to pall for everyone else. It's worth having a couple of reliable, inexpensive, versatile wines to hand at this point, and two that spring immediately to mind are The Wine Society's easy-drinking, coconut-and soft berry fruit-flavoured Rioja Crianza 2007 (£6.95), which will match nicely with cold meats but can be happily sipped on its own; and Zalze Bush Vine Chenin Blanc, Coastal Region, South Africa (£6.49, Waitrose) which has nice weight, lots of fresh tropical fruit and good, zippy acidity, and which will handle anything from fish to lightly spicy Asian noodles to white meat.

New Year's Eve

And so to New Year's Eve. I've been through most kinds of celebration over the years: massive, drunken party; boozy dinner party with close friends and family; at home with just the wife and Jools Holland on the box. Wherever I am, I like to start with a cocktail, and my favourite is a freshly made, rough-and-ready mojito, with as much fresh mint as I can find, the juice of a couple of limes, plenty of coarse cane sugar and a good glug of Havana Club Especial (£18.49, down to £14.49, Waitrose, until 4 Jan).

Then it's on to the fizz. If I were hosting a big party, I'd be happy with Asda's Cava Brut (£4.28) or the cleaner, crisper, appley Cava Torre Oria Brut NV from Oddbins, which is decent value if you buy a case of 12 for £7.19 each (the single-bottle price is £8.99). With a bit more cash I'd move up to the excellent Château Moncontour Vouvray Brut, Loire Valley, France (£9.99, M&S;) with its tingling acidity, and crisp green apple freshness, or the very well-made Jansz Premium Non-Vintage Brut Cuvée, Tasmania, Australia, which has some of the brioche and toast of a much more expensive champagne, and which is, again, pretty good value from Oddbins if you buy 12 (£10.39 or £12.99 for a single bottle). I'd be happy with either of those if I was having a small dinner party, too.

If it has to be champagne, then the lemony-fresh slightly buttery Tesco Finest Premier Cru Champagne NV is a solid bet for under 20 quid (£19.49), while Majestic has a good offer on Champagne Jacquart's Brut Tradition NV for the festive period: at £15 until 31 Jan, this is a very tasty, slightly nutty, yeasty fizz for the price. Moving up a little in price, but equally good value, are the fruity, clean, precise Déhu Tradition Brut (£23.99 or £19.99 as part of a case of 12 bottles, Oddbins) and the subtle Champagne Thienot Brut (from £25, Bedales,; Corks Out, Warrington; Cornelius Wines, Edinburgh). And to see in the New Year in real style, the perfectly mature 1990 Champagne R&L; Legras, Cuvée Exceptionelle, St Vincent (£110, Berry Bros & Rudd), with its complex palate of honey and a whisper of fresh coffee, would take some beating.

New Year's Day and January

There are, in my experience, two ways to confront the existential horror of New Year's Day. You can either drink your way out of the almighty hangover and the prospect of the long, dark January to come. Or you can resolve to enter a period of abstinence.

Bitter experience has taught me that the first method never works. And the prospect of abstinence needn't be treated with dread. The key is to find non-alcoholic alternatives that are genuinely delicious. This isn't easy. As far as I'm aware, nobody has yet managed to produce a drinkable non-alcoholic wine or beer. And many of the other adult soft drinks presented as alternatives to booze, such as the really quite delicious fizzy fruit-and-herb infusion Amé (or, for that matter, Shloer), are too sweet to fill he gap left by the neither sweet-nor-savoury hole left by my favourite kinds of booze. Drinking too much tea or coffee merely leaves me feeling wired.

I do have a few staples, however. A glass of the very clean and crisp Fever Tree Tonic (see below for stockists) with a tiny dash – any more and it becomes an alcoholic drink – of the intense Angostura Bitters (£5.49, 200ml, thedrinkshop.com) is a nicely bitter aperitif, while Fever Tree's Ginger Beer (£2.99 for 4 x 200ml or £1.69 for 500ml, Waitrose, Sainsbury's, Majestic, Oddbins and some Tesco stores) holds back on overt sweetness, is genuinely refreshing and works better than most wines with Asian food. I've also developed a bit of an addiction to the Belvoir range of cordials: mixed with sparkling water, the elderflower, gooseberry and muscat (£4.25, Ocado.com) mimics many of the flavours you find in sauvignon blanc, while the cranberry (£4.25, Asda and Waitrose) satisfies my craving for the crunchy fruit you find in beaujolais – a drink to fill in the empty days while you wait for normal drinking service to resume.

Journalist, painter and tireless champion of the arts in Scotland

Cordelia Oliver, who has died aged 86, was an indefatigable promoter of the arts in Scotland. In 1963, when her cultural commando friend Richard Demarco and Jim Haynes were making waves in Edinburgh with the Traverse theatre, Cordelia was offered a roving commission as the Guardian's arts correspondent in Scotland. For more than three decades she reported, often through pessimistic political times, the surge of optimism she felt in Scottish theatre, opera, music, painting and sculpture.

I first met her in the run-up to the Charles Rennie Mackintosh centenary exhibition at the Edinburgh festival in 1968. Cordelia, a most loyal Glaswegian, would have preferred the celebrations to be in the city of his birth. Unlike many in Glasgow at this time, she shared the considered judgment of German and Austrian architects who acclaimed the "Mackintoshismus" style. She had spent the war years at the Glasgow School of Art, not only as a student of painting by day, but as a volunteer firefighter by night. "If we painted in large letters: 'Glasgow School of Art built by Charles Rennie Mackintosh' on the roof," Cordelia remembered William Hutchison, the school's wry director, telling their nightwatch before dawn, "no self-respecting Luftwaffe pilot would ever think of bombing us."

Cordelia Patrick was born in Glasgow, the daughter of a merchant navy officer from the Mull of Kintyre. She attended the city's Hutchesons' grammar school, where she won the art and English prizes. At Glasgow School of Art, she won the Guthrie portrait prize and continued, after graduation, to teach evening classes there, along with her day job teaching art at Craigholme school for girls. As a prize-winning soloist she sang with Glasgow's Orpheus Choir. When that disbanded, she joined the Phoenix Choir, and sang at the first Edinburgh festival in 1947.

By the next year, Cordelia had married the writer and photographer George Oliver and left for London. But in 1950, when George became the art editor of a travel magazine, they moved to Edinburgh. As George's job gave him backstage access to Edinburgh festival productions, it allowed Cordelia to catch performers on the fly, in line drawings, many of which peppered her then anonymous reviews for the Glasgow Herald.

With George, a keen vintage car driver, Cordelia travelled extensively throughout Europe. In 1971 their destination was Bucharest, so she could write the catalogue for Demarco's Romanian art exhibition and encourage the artist Paul Neagu to emigrate to Scotland. Before long, Cordelia was presenting Neagu's television performance piece Going Tornado, in Aberdeen. Her ecstatic preview of the theatre-maker Tadeusz Kantor's The Water Hen, staged by Demarco in an abandoned poorhouse, helped launch it as the hit of the 1973 Edinburgh festival.

When Demarco invited Joseph Beuys and other Düsseldorf artists to stage their Strategy Get Arts exhibition, with its catchy palindromic title, at the Edinburgh College of Art, all hell was let loose among the Scottish arts establishment and there were tirades in the press. Now, 40 years later, George's photographs and Cordelia's perceptive reporting capture the excitement of this landmark event. Collaborating with Beuys on his later Edinburgh installations, George Wyllie was inspired to create his massive Straw Locomotive for the 1988 Glasgow Garden festival. When the flames of its Viking funeral died down, the silhouette of a giant question mark hovered in its burnt-out carcass. "Why," asked Cordelia, "has the National Gallery of Scotland never collected Wyllie's work?"

From 1970 onwards, Cordelia championed the creative troika of Giles Havergal, Philip Prowse and Robert David MacDonald who together, at a rejuvenated Citizens theatre, forged a drama unique in Britain, opening the whole spectrum of European theatre to Glasgow audiences. Cordelia wrote Magic in the Gorbals: A Personal Record of the Citizens Theatre (1999), and many books and catalogues on artists; her most revealing was on her student contemporary, the expressionist painter Joan Eardley.

George died in 1990. Towards the end of her life, Cordelia was taken off many arts organisations' press lists, probably on account of her age. Fortunately, Bill Williams's Artwork, Scotland's most independent arts newspaper, gave her the freedom to express her astute views right up to the week she died.

When the National Theatre of Scotland launched Gregory Burke's Black Watch in a variety of ad-hoc spaces, it endorsed everything Cordelia had campaigned for. "A Scottish national theatre is an activity," she wrote. "It has to start with a company, not a building." Who could have said that better?

Richard Demarco writes: Cordelia and her husband, George, were both artists and patrons who shared my belief, in the 60s, that Scotland's world of the contemporary arts should take advantage of the international stage provided by the Edinburgh festival.

They enjoyed the company of artists at their home in Pollokshields, Glasgow, where the conversation would inevitably be inspired by their international collection, which juxtaposed Scottish art with Romanian.

Cordelia supported the most demanding aspects of avant-gardism, notably expressed by the Polish artist and director Tadeusz Kantor and his Cricot 2 theatre productions, which explored the interface between theatre and the visual arts.

I recently organised an exhibition of work by Cordelia, her friend and fellow student Margot Sandeman and Archie Sutter Watt, whose Galloway landscapes they admired. We all celebrated the fact that Cordelia sold a still life of flowers, painted not long after she had graduated from Glasgow School of Art. The sale raised her long-cherished hopes of spending her final days as a painter.

• Cordelia Oliver, artist and critic, born 24 April 1923; died 1 December 2009