You mean it will be just the two of you? Oh, that’s awful, you must come to us. No, I insist, I know it’s sentimental and silly, but I’m just like a child about Christmas, I can’t bear the idea of anyone being all alone. Well, even vaguely alone. Well, I can easily do your dog a stocking. Can you skate, have you ever seen The Snowman, could you bring a Christmas jumper? No trouble at all, I bought the presents in January, the pudding’s from 1997 and we’re just back from Lapland with the holly. I know it’s shaming to admit being unsophisticated enough to love something that proper grown-ups are supposed to despise, but if it’s childish to want to murder anyone who doesn’t appreciate mistletoe and grottoes and parties and carols and the smell of pine needles crunched under foot and little children gazing round-eyed at Christmas trees and steaming glasses of gluhwein and watching It’s A Wonderful Life for the 50th time, well, I think that’s what being passionate about Christmas is all about. Why should the Grinches stop me having a 15ft tree or tickets for the Nutcracker or a turkey for 30? Anyway, it’s not about money. Even if we were flat broke, I like to think I’d make my own crackers. What’s six weeks of intense anxiety for a lifetime’s golden memories?
You don’t like the ads? Well, I love being made to cry by a penguin. When else are you going to cry? By August, just seeing the words “John Lewis” is enough to make me sob a tiny bit, because I know it’s only months to the next Christmas ad, so it will soon be time to plan the tree – we’ve gone gold this year – and wrap the presents and order a 25lb turkey, though I can easily get a bigger one if you come. The more the merrier. Well, obviously not my mother, are you joking?
Well, if you’re quite sure. No point in stressing over it. In fact, if you haven’t stressed by now, it probably means you aren’t very festive-minded, so just enjoy being all minimal. What are you doing for New Year?
