There are only two things I like about Christmas; iced mince pies and the fact that at some time, on some channel you will be able to watch ‘The Great Escape’ on TV. Aside from that, I find the whole event pretty tedious and stressful. From the moment in November when you start racking your brains trying to think of presents you can get your senile grandmother or your workaholic Dad to the post-Christmas dinner washing up session when it usually takes a year’s supply of cleaning chemicals to remove the bits of burnt turkey from the roasting tin, it’s all horrendous. ‘Tis the season to be jolly? ‘Tis the season to disappear off to somewhere warm and sunny and forget all about your family and friends, I say!

Which is why I have decided to do what I’ve always threatened and spend Christmas alone. I’ve had to tell a few white lies to my Mum so that she thinks I’ll be with friends (good job this blog is anonymous, eh?) and some people have taken a lot of convincing that I genuinely want to be by myself and that this isn’t all some attention-grabbing stunt, but the plan is slowly beginning to take shape. I’ve been thinking about what would constitute my perfect Christmas Day, and the basic rule seems to be that apart from the two things I mentioned earlier, there will be no obvious sign that it’s Christmas at all.

No tree, decorations, turkey and definitely no festive songs - ever since one hellish year when my Grandma put her “Xmas Hits” in repeat during a three-hour meal I’ve started to twitch uncontrollably whenever I hear the first few notes of White Christmas. At least that’s the plan. Maybe the festive spirit will get to me before December 25, but for now (as Scrooge would say) Christmas is cancelled!

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