Can pandemic solidarity turn a long-standing Christmas Grinch into a festive fiend?

As the UK prepares for a Christmas like no other, Olivia Petter tries to overcome her indifference for this time of year and get into the festive spirit

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After all that, Christmas has been cancelled. While Britons had spent weeks preparing for a short break from restrictions that would allow them to spend the festive season with two other households, now they can do so for just Christmas Day itself – unless you’re in a tier 4 area, in which case, you’re stuck with your household or support bubble.

For many, this U-turn will have devastating consequences, forcing families to spend Christmas apart after months of separation, while others might have to spend the entire festive period alone, or with housemates they can’t bear. As a result, a lot of people will look back on Christmas 2020 as one of the worst in recent memory. 

I am not one of those people.

I’ve never liked Christmas. There are a few reasons for this – some of which I’ve already written about for The Independent – but in short: I’m a Jewish only child with divorced parents who can’t stand each other and my extended family is a political minefield. And so every year, I watch as my friends “go home” for Christmas. I picture them playing board games around fireplaces, baking mince pies with younger relatives, and practising fake smiles when they’re given the same set of pyjamas that Aunt Betty bought them last year, and I’m reminded of the kind and chaotic family I’ve never had and always wanted.

There are other reasons why I hate this time of year, too. I hate how department stores splash red sequins across their windows and try to convince us that dressing like tinsel is a good look. I don’t understand why, come November, everyone starts drinking mulled wine and pretends it doesn’t taste like hot vinegar. And I resent that women are often the ones bearing the brunt of emotional labour at Christmas. As for the decorations, well, whoever created tinsel deserves to permanently sneeze glitter.

With all this in mind, I hope it’s not insensitive to admit that I am one of few people in the UK that let out a sigh of relief when Boris Johnson announced the new Christmas restrictions. Finally, everyone else would be as miserable as me. What a treat!

Misanthropy aside, I’m not impervious to the afflictions of 2020. And so, in spite of my Scrooge tendencies, I’ve actually spent most of December trying to change my mindset, in the hope that the oft-cited “Christmas spirit” may be just the thing to perk my spirits up this year because, quite frankly, there’s been more than enough doom and gloom already. So I gave myself three weeks to get festive. Really, really festive.

There were a number of obvious things to tick off – buy a tree, watch a classic Christmas film, get an advent calendar – and some that were more niche and had been suggested to me by friends (buy lots of tangerines, learn how to make a Smoking Bishop cocktail, find some cold water to swim in on Boxing Day). The plan was that after having completed these activities, I would be cured of my Grinch syndrome and find a modicum of joy in the festive season. Ostensibly, it seemed easy. Except, it wasn’t. Not even a little bit. Here’s what happened when I tried to get into the Christmas spirit.

Week one

30th November - 6th December

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I’m in Tesco looking for wholemeal pitta bread and Brenda Lee’s “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” is playing on the speaker. I’m immediately incensed. Christmas is still ages away – this is inexcusable and utterly inconsiderate. Then I remember my challenge and consider this my own individual form of exposure therapy.

This is a good strategy, because I still can’t find the pitta bread and another Christmas song has started playing. It’s “Jingle Bell Rock”. This reminds me of the dance scene in Mean Girls, and I remember how I tried to learn the (incredibly inappropriate) moves when I was 12 years old. I laugh and give into it as another even tackier Christmas song – Wham’s “Last Christmas” – starts playing. I find the pitta bread, spot a two-for-one deal on prosecco and leave Tesco humming “All I Want For Christmas is You”. This might not be so bad.

...

I sit down with my housemates to watch a film after dinner. They suggest Elf. I explain that I find Will Ferrell intolerable, even more so when he’s playing an infantilised Christmas junkie in a garish green and yellow outfit. “Fair,” replies one. “Also, Elf Twitter is just the worst”. I wonder what happens on Elf Twitter.

They won’t let me watch the only Christmas film I really like – The Family Stone – because it’s too depressing (it’s about a dysfunctional family spending Christmas together) and that’s not the point of this challenge.

I ask if Bridget Jones’ Diary counts. I argue that, as a film that begins with a Christmas party and some rather hideous Christmas jumpers (remember Mark Darcy’s reindeer jumper?), Bridget Jones totally counts. They disagree and put on Home Alone. I spend the first 30 minutes Googling Macaulay Culkin and lamenting the perils of childhood stardom.

Then I try to get into the film, and I sort of do. I find myself empathising with Kevin when he feels dissociated from his family and start to root for their happy reunion. The ending leaves me feeling fuzzy inside; I download Home Alone 2.

Week two

7 December - 13 December

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I’ve been at this for one week, so I decide that it’s time to get an advent calendar. The problem is that I’ve come to this decision a little late as it’s already 7 December. Are they even still on sale?

I’m informed by friends that you can buy advent calendars at the supermarket throughout December, but the only ones I can find are covered in garish illustrations and full of milk chocolate, which I’m not the biggest fan of. The vast amount of packaging also seems wasteful to me.

My friend suggests a beauty advent calendar. Now we're talking. After a brief search online, I come across one that hasn’t yet sold out: ESPA’s “There’s No Place Like Home” advent calendar. This looks lovely: deep green in colour, sturdy in build (so I can refill it next year), and packed with gorgeous-smelling oils and skin products. This will work perfectly, particularly because, by the time it arrives, I’ll be able to open a couple of the presents already.

Naturally, I can’t help but peak in almost all of the boxes when it does arrive. But I stick to my guns and only take out products from the days that have already passed. A neck cream, night oil, and a facial spray… I could get used to this.

…

London is about to go into tier 3 so I rally my housemates for a final dinner out on the town. This is an opportunity to embrace festive fashion. Christmas jumpers are a step too far, so I raid my wardrobe and find an emerald green velvet smock from Ghost that looks suitably festive. I realise Christmas fashion doesn’t have to mean the presence of glitter, sequins, or slogans like: “Gin-gle all the way”.

Week three

21st December - the big day

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Now for the real challenge: a tree, the ultimate symbol of Christmas. This has always been a major gripe for me. A lot of Jewish families have Christmas trees – I never did – and seeing them lighting up other people’s Zoom backgrounds has been irritating in recent weeks, serving to remind me of yet another sentimental tradition I haven’t been invited to enjoy.

I’ve moved house now and live alone in a flat around the corner from a big Christmas tree market, and so I regularly see people hauling giant trees back to their homes from my window. I had planned to do this, but somehow haven’t managed to find the time. I decide that perhaps a traditional tree was never on the cards for me anyway, as I would not only have to buy decorations, but actually then put them up. That’s a lot of time and financial dedication for someone who hates Christmas. Plus, there’s something a bit sad about decorating a giant Christmas tree on your own.

I go on Amazon and manage to find a very lovely looking gold PVC snow-topped Christmas tree. It comes with LED lights so no need to buy your own, and it can be delivered tonight! This is perfect. This is great. Better yet, this isn’t just a regular Christmas tree. It’s a cool Christmas tree, because it’s gold. I’ve always worn gold jewellery, so I decide this was the tree I was born to buy. I clear a space for it in my living room next to the TV.

The tree arrives in a box big enough for a basketball. Oh. I unpack it and it transpires that the tree I’ve ordered is not the majestic golden beauty I had envisaged. But is a flimsy, deskside ornament around six inches tall. Bugger.

…

Christmas is just days away now. It feels like a good day to bake mince pies. It’s a classic festive activity, and I’m very hungover, so could quite frankly really do with an excess of baked goods.

I’ve never been very good at baking, but after a quick Google, making mince pies looks fairly easy – which suits my slapdash approach to cooking. With no scales, I opt for a recipe that uses cups rather than weight. I don't know what this means so I assume I can just use a regular mug.

Apparently, this was a bad idea. Because the mince pies taste far too sweet, too dry, and they crumble in my hands. Paul Hollywood would wince. Because I’m so hungover, and this has gone to pot, I need something to lift my spirits. So I go over to my advent calendar and then something strange happens. I’m opening all of the doors to see what’s inside. I’m taking them out and smelling them. I can’t stop myself.

I find a candle in the Christmas Day slot and light it immediately. I am a woman possessed. Then I realise there’s no point in keeping up this charade, so I take all of the other beauty products out. I spend the evening trying them all and put the calendar in the recycling bin.

Conclusion: Am I feeling festive?

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It wasn’t exactly the festive experience I’d hoped it would be, but I’m certainly feeling more open to getting involved in Christmas festivities this year.

Having listened to a few more of the songs – Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” is a banger – and spent time carefully choosing presents for my loved ones, I’ve realised that there are lovely parts to Christmas that I could get on board with, even if I don’t have a big raucus family to spend it with.

I had planned to spend the day itself at my mum’s house, but now that’s no longer on the cards given that I live in a tier 4 area. Instead, it will be just me and my boyfriend at my flat in east London. Continuing on from my challenge, I’ve done some preparations.

I’ve ordered one of those festive meal kits from my favourite Italian restaurant (I don’t mind a roast but the faff of cooking seems unnecessary), stocked up on prosecco, and planned to have a cup of tea on FaceTime with my dad and his kids in the US. I’ve also bought crackers, board games, and found a nearby pub that’s doing takeaway mulled wine on Christmas Eve. I’ve also put my tiny Christmas tree on the dining table – and I have to say, it makes a nice centrepiece.

I never thought I’d say this. But for the first time in years, I’m actually looking forward to Christmas Day.