How on earth is it December? There should be an inquiry into how November just didn’t happen this year – it was a month of growing unease about how warm it was and a few discounts on pumpkin-themed sweets, and now here we are.
I’m probably a bit more militant in my Christmas spirit nowadays due to the last few years. In 2019, I spent Christmas Day working, then returning to an empty flat in London. In 2020, well, we know what happened then.
Last year, I excitedly planned for a Christmas of some kind of normality, only to test positive for Covid on Christmas Eve and spend 10 days in bed, watching old movies.
So this year I’m hoping for a perfect Christmas. But what does that look like? If you ask a group of people at different stages of their lives, you will get wildly different answers.
A child will want everything on their Santa list. An over-tired nurse might just want a day off with a selection box, a glass or two of port and the Strictly special on.
A family facing homelessness might just want some security and a roof over their heads in 2023, while a Ukrainian person could just want to go back home.
Somebody who has just lost a loved one might just want to pick up again on January 2.
Christmas means so many different things that we can’t really have “the perfect Christmas”. Even the standard ideal – dinner with all the family – can be a nightmare if you don’t get on with your relatives or are unable to be yourself around them.
Deciding whether to be with your parents or your in-laws can cause ructions. Then again, many people don’t have families to gather with, even if they wanted to.
Thus comes the pressure. You have to have matching pyjamas with your partner, kids and pets and a portrait plastered over social media on Christmas Eve.
Everyone has to be all smiles until at least 8pm on the 25th. The turkey has to be Nigella-worthy. Presents must bring a tear to everyone’s eye. And you had better have a significant other to share it with.
I know I’m very lucky. I have a roof over my head, I have a family I love, I have the best friends a girl could have. But even I have my tactics to get through to the new year.
I don’t think of Christmas as Christmas Day. Christmas for me is the rest of it. The December drinks with people you haven’t seen since last December, the carbs, the strolls down Grafton Street, watching Home Alone and Die Hard and the Gavin & Stacey Christmas specials in bed.
Without fail, I send 30 quid worth of stamped cards abroad and relish searching markets for Kris Kringle gifts. I could take or leave Christmas Day itself, as long as I have the rest of my traditions.
But this year, I’m hoping for a normal Christmas – one where I nap after dinner, gorge on Terry’s Chocolate Oranges, wear pyjamas for three days, talk at some point with everyone I love.
Because what could be more magical than that?