THE best things in life are free. Except the Wyoming toad, but just give it a couple of breeding cycles.

Admit it, though: at times it’s particularly difficult to separate cost from value. Of course, I don’t intend to rehash those tired tropes about the commercialisation of whichever festival society chooses to celebrate wildly. That would just put me on sticky ground for next year’s Reg Vardy Gras. Sure, November tinsel and adverts so saccharine the diabetes statistics need insulin plague my winter as much as anyone else’s, but if that’s your bag, who am I to fill it with contempt? I’m all about choice and I can’t opt out on this one, even if I wanted to.

Sometimes, though, it’s important to just reconnect with what are commonly known as the simple things in life; you know, those things that tend to be just about as complex as they come. Bonds and friendships: human interactions that can make a socially anxious sister have the mother of all panics. In spite of my ill-developed people skills, I’ve always been a bit of a toucher. Whoa there, before you bring in the dolls and ask my friends to point out where, it’s all sound pre-watershed fun with this gal. We all need sensory input, folks, and I’m a tactile soul from head to toe. How better then to fight the commercial fire this year than by investing my love of physical contact, and dousing it with some real Christmas spirit?

Voted the world’s friendliest city only last month by travel publisher Rough Guides, Glasgow clearly makes the kind of warm impression that a cat skulks into moments after you’ve vacated your spot on the sofa. Oft reduced to tales of gang culture and knife crime that most Glaswegians have yet to witness first-hand, the dear place perhaps isn’t as green as it is savage-looking. But alongside that dodgy reputation blossoms a stark contradiction that almost always puts Glasgow at the business end of Santa’s nice list. Welcoming, vibrant, friendly: whatever the adjective, Scotland’s largest city turns up like a hipster’s trews when there’s a decent title at stake. I shouldn’t have been too surprised then when its good people turned out with open arms for my free hugs earlier this week.

11 o’clock on a bracing Wednesday morning and Buchanan Street in the centre of Glasgow was alive with the sights and sounds of the season. But I joined the party to add in the feels. Standing small among the Style Mile shoppers, with a hand-scrawled sign and a hopeful face, I set up shop with only hugs on the inventory and an immediate returns policy. I won’t pretend it was easy to risk ridicule and rejection in such a public arena; there’s no brass in this girl’s pocket. But I had barely lifted my placard into position when a young man bounded towards me, all energy and cheer, to cut the ribbon unceremoniously on my adventure.

And so on it went.

That instant first hug reminded me just how effective the Free Hugs campaign is and why the social movement was started by “Juan Mann” in Australia in 2004. Naturally, I was also flooded with all that lovely oxytocin that research shows a quick cuddle releases into the body, so times weren’t exactly tough. As a worldwide campaign to tackle loneliness and encourage compassion, it’s ingenious; as a way of reminding yourself of the value of small gestures and the reward in kindness, it’s even better.

Originally, my investment had been limited, in both ambition and time, convinced, as I was, that all I’d be hugging that morning was my broken pride. But warmed by the reaction – and the body heat – I found myself still pestering pedestrians over a quick hour later. I’m not saying, of course, that the entirety of Glasgow’s populace embraced my efforts or my chilled form; there were rejections, as expected, but they were all variants on a jolly theme and delivered with a smile. And, beyond a hug, what more could I have asked for from a busy shopper?

After around 30 hugs, I gave up the count, since frostbite threatened to shear my best abacus, but I reckon by noon I had given the best part of 150. And the real best part? I had also received them. Cuddles from burly workmen that enveloped me completely, the softest of squeezes from elderly gents, even a reiki wrapping from a practitioner or two. Glasgow has them all, and it shared them with me. Families stood patiently in line while groups of teenagers squashed together for our group hug and selfie. Photos with tourists and videos by passers-by, waves from the tearoom customers above; all adding to the experience and my determination to return another day, once my stores are again replenished.

An older lady approached apprehensively and, as I held her tightly for only an instant of my time, she admitted that she had been really needing a hug all day. Maybe we can put a price on most things in life, but the value of that moment was immeasurable.