Important question: when do you open your presents? Not before breakfast, please. That suggests a woeful lack of control. Stockings, fine. But you must wait a bit longer for the presents under the tree (presents, note, not ‘gift’). When I was small, we were allowed one present from under the tree before church at 11am, which we could then proudly cart with us to the service. This was only problematic the year I opened a pony and declared she had to come to church, too. Only joking, I left the pony at home.
Ideally you wake up, open your stocking with your children/relatives/dog, and then it’s breakfast. A little sliver of smoked salmon, perhaps? That first crisp glass of something sparkling? Church is a more divisive issue in my household these days, since many of us don’t want to go, but our poor mother does, just not alone. Depending on how guilty we all feel, some years we go together; other years we mumble excuses about needing to stay at home to put the turkey in/get going on the sprouts. If you’ve been to Midnight Mass the night before you are of course, exonerated, but that also means you had to stay sober enough to stand up in church on Christmas Eve, which certain members of certain families may struggle with.
'A quick note on The King’s speech. This takes place at 3pm and is roughly as divisive as church'
After church, or by late morning, you can open your presents. Others may gasp and say this is still too early. If you’re an after-lunch household then, fair enough, but the afternoon is an ambitious finishing line if you have anyone under the age of 10 in the house. Spare a thought, at this point, for my old Tatler colleague Tibbs, who used to be made to write a thank you letter for each present as soon as she’d opened it, before she could move on to the next present. Torturous for everyone involved.
Now, are you a Christmas lunch or Christmas dinner family? We are Team Late Lunch. Lots of pottering about in the kitchen, peeling accompanied by a bottle of two of Champagne, a crisp or a blini nearby, and the Cambridge choristers doing their finest work in the background. Splendid. Lunch is more relaxing than dinner, I reckon, because afterwards you can get changed into something elasticated and then take the dogs out, or collapse on the sofa, or both. You should really find a moment for a walk at some stage of the day. Not to move at all is deeply slutty, in the old-fashioned sense of the word. Some very grand friends are a Christmas dinner family, for which they all wear black tie. Black tie on Christmas Day! This feels alarmingly restrictive to me.
A quick note on The King’s speech. This takes place at 3pm and is roughly as divisive as church. Some want to watch it, others don’t. Let’s just say we probably won’t all be watching standing up, as some very respectful families do. If you’re also juggling politics and generations, the answer is to pop it on the television in another room — then everyone can congregate again afterwards.
A game of Scrabble, perhaps, post lunch and before the slump on the sofa? If you haven’t yet fallen out with a member of the family, now’s the moment. Pop a word with a ‘z’ in it down on a triple word score.
And then it’s screen time (not The King’s speech and after a 30-minute row about what to watch) with another bottle of palate-cleansing Champagne, or maybe you’re well into the red by now, before somehow finding room for a peculiar combination of leftovers. A few Brussels sprouts nudging up against a cold spoonful of bread sauce, beside another hunk of turkey with a slice of panettone balancing precariously on the side. Perfect. Although might I suggest a Gaviscon or Rennie chaser before bed?
