Solstice sharing
On the solstice (22 December), we have a family tradition that involves donating £60 to local charities. Each person in our family – mum, dad, two kids – has an hour to scour the charity shops to buy three meaningful presents for the others, with a budget of £5. We then rendezvous in a cafe for a hot toddy. After a woodland walk to pick up a Yule log, we exchange gifts around the fire. Everyone’s a winner, and funnily enough some of our most treasured presents over the years have been these cheap, quirky gifts.
Margaret Spencer, Sheffield
Family Christmas colouring tablecloth
We use a tablecloth with games and colouring-in on it on our Christmas table. It keeps adults and kids entertained on Christmas Day.
Sarah Watkins, Skipton
Gelli Baff
Our family tradition is quite unusual, but it seems to be the only regular event we do each Christmas Day without fail, and my children (and I) look forward to it all year. Every Christmas Eve, Santa brings my children Gelli Baff, a special powder that turns bath water into jelly. He always puts the Gelli Baff at the top of their Christmas sacks, so they open this first, then go straight back upstairs to the bathroom to use it. We use two or three packs to make it extra-thick and gloopy. An hour or so later, after covering themselves (and the bathroom) in jelly, they get dressed to see what else Santa has brought.
I have three children, aged eight, five and two; this tradition stems from when my eldest was an only child and we wanted something to fill the mid-morning gap before lunch. It probably won’t last for ever – I can’t imagine teenagers being enthusiastic about it – but it has worked for the last seven years and we love it. Bathing in jelly is surprisingly enjoyable, even as an adult.
Emily Wilson, Ripponden
Christmas Chinese
Growing up in a Jewish family in America, Christmas Day meant two things: cinema and Chinese food. We’d have the best seats in the house for any film we chose, because the cinema was all but abandoned. The best Chinese restaurant in town was another matter, though – there was a large number of Jewish families in my town and they all had the same idea (Rosenthal, party of 13...). In recent years, however, the gentile population has caught on to the Christmas matinee, and ruined it by sheer numbers – in much the way you lot have mainstreamed bagels but can’t make them properly.
Mark Stein, New Britain, Connecticut
Tree
My family has a habit of developing wacky games that eventually become tradition. Our favourite for Christmas Day is called Tree. You can have unlimited players and one Tree Guard. The Tree Guard is the youngest willing player in the game (better for the old people’s knees).
A game of Tree starts when someone brings out a blown-up balloon and hits it through the air to another person. The volley begins, and soon all players are hitting the balloon back and forth. The object is to keep the balloon in the air without it popping. The reason it’s called Tree is simply due to the fact that that’s the word everyone was yelling in unison as the balloon was nearing the Christmas tree needles, thus approaching its certain death. Hence also the Tree Guard.
Tree is so simple and sounds so dumb, but it’s a favourite of any guest we’ve had. So we always have balloons on hand.
Hallie Rawlinson, US
Absent friends
At exactly 11am on Christmas morning, everyone in the house takes a glass of champagne and shares a toast to “absent friends”. It is a peaceful and thoughtful moment.
Fiona Sawyer, Kingclere, Hampshire
The candle game
Every Christmas, Dad lines up a bunch of pound coins (one for every family member) and melts the bottom of a candle to each so that it stands upright. Once everyone is sitting down and paying attention, they are randomly assigned a coin and candle. All candles are then lit concurrently (or as close as is technically possible, given alcohol consumption) and we sit, in the dark, in silence, as the candles melt. No sneezing, laughing or tactical blowing is allowed. About 20 minutes later, only one player’s candle will not have burnt out and they are declared the winner. The prize, of course, is all the waxy pound coins.
James Rawson, Lydiate, Merseyside
The Raffle
Apparently this began with my mother-in-law’s father, but no Christmas is complete at my husband’s family’s Christmas without The Raffle. On paper it sounds simple enough: each person buys four presents and a booby prize, wraps them and presents them for the draw, for which each parcel has a ticket. You pick your tickets and are presented with your prizes. You are allowed to swap if you picked your own present (or not, if you know it’s a good one), then it’s the fun of opening them. If you’re lucky, you’ve picked chocolates and bubble bath; if you’re not, you’ve got the edible underwear and the fart cushion. I’m sure no one would dream of fixing it, but my father-in-law does question why he owns a Father Christmas onesie, a vicar kit and a mankini.
Rebecca Moses, London
Here we go round the Christmas tree
…on a Christmas afternoon. This is the way, to the tune of Here We Go Round The Mulberry Bush, our family hold hands, sing and, yep, dance around the Christmas tree on Christmas or Boxing Day afternoon. After every chorus, we stop and chant, “What will you have [insert name]?” and each of us, from youngest to oldest, has a turn at picking a present from the tree. At this, the rest of the family shout, “And [youngest child] has chosen” – pause for frantic unwrapping and perhaps a fake drum-roll or two – “a Groucho Marx moustache and glasses set!” or “An enormous pair of Union Jack Underpants!” Then off we go again, until the oldest family member has ripped the paper off their novelty cat boomerang or what have you.
We’re not sure where it came from, but we know that my grandmother and her seven siblings used to do it, and that their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren carry on the tradition every year. No Christmas is complete without it, and no new partner fully integrated into the family until they’ve done it. No one’s excused: our infirm elders, grumpy uncles and newborn babies are assisted, dragged and dandled around with the rest of us.
Vicky Hill, London
We collected these stories using GuardianWitness. Tell us what your family does in the festive break in the comments below.
