I’m with the Europeans – Christmas Eve is much better than Christmas Day

I’m not really excited about Christmas Day. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it; my Christmas tree has been up since December 1st, I've been listening to carols with somber melodies, and I’ve sent out a ton of cards until the steep price of postage drained my funds. However, I prefer the lead-up to Christmas, especially Advent, which for me peaks on Christmas Eve, the day when many countries in Europe celebrate by giving gifts.

On the other hand, the 25th has this strange feeling of pressure, almost like being stuck inside a snow globe where everyone has to wear a perpetual smile. It's not surprising that arguments often break out among the British, whether during family meals or while playing board games, because we really struggle to accept anything that falls short of perfection. I remember one Christmas when our oven broke down, and we had to rely on a helpful neighbor to cook the turkey for us (who, quite wisely, was probably just enjoying toast instead).

One year, I invited my parents over to my old apartment after my morning run. I was feeling pretty proud of myself until my mom pointed out that the garden wall had collapsed during the night. In a different incident, my husband's family experienced a burglary on Christmas Eve; a police officer caught the thief when he noticed that Santa Claus typically doesn’t carry his bag slung over his shoulder or ride a bicycle.

I completely agree with the Scandiwegians and other practical folks who relish the day before the big event: the excitement is always more enjoyable. In my in-laws’ village, Christmas Eve is a festive occasion filled with celebration. The local Mummers perform their play from house to house, and friends often stick around for a drink afterward. Work is done for the day. The Christmas tree looks beautiful. There’s a slow and easy preparation of vegetables while listening to carols. Even the thought of snow adds to the charm, regardless of whether it actually snows. All that’s left is to relax and soak it all in – though I should mention that my husband and I alternate Christmas celebrations with our families. This year, it’s just adults and our dog until my nieces arrive on Christmas morning.

On Christmas Eve, the atmosphere is filled with music. In the morning, I play a tape of my school’s Christmas carols from the '90s, where every word is enunciated so clearly it reminds me of a bunch of little Princess Margarets. Then, in the afternoon, I listen to Carols from King's on Radio 4 in quiet company with my dad, just like his father did before him. We’ll also record it on BBC Two to watch later, and we don’t even think to ask why.

My book club has adopted the Icelandic custom of Jolabokaflod, where you exchange books on Christmas Eve. I plan to bring my own book along, and I also have a couple for home. Unfortunately, my dog can't read, so he’ll just get a squeaky toy instead. We’ll enjoy our readings as we drift off to sleep by a cozy fire, with candles flickering dangerously close to beautiful garlands of holly and ivy that I found in the woods. At some point, I’ll sneak upstairs to wrap gifts for the adults. After all, everyone appreciates a nicely wrapped set of batteries.

To enhance the Scandinavian vibe, Radio 3 will be broadcasting a two-hour special titled “Hygge Christmas” at 7 PM, perfect for accompanying your drinks. M&S offers an excellent non-alcoholic mulled wine, but if you're tuning into Radio 3, you'll have to refer to it as glühwein. So, I think I’ll whip up a batch of that while others enjoy their bubbly drinks.

In the evening, it's the perfect moment for a relaxed, simple dinner and some TV time. Tonight is all about enjoying the familiar rather than trying something new or extravagant; those shows can always be recorded for later or simply set aside. Marking them in the TV guide with a bold pen feels like a ritual in itself. There are an abundance of candles lit, enough to raise concerns for the Fire Department.

During this time, my Norwegian neighbors introduced me to the celebration of St. Lucia, a festive event filled with theatrical flair, featuring white robes, green wreaths, and candles. It feels like a more peaceful version of the movie Midsommar. My mother-in-law takes the excitement up a notch by adorning her Christmas tree with real candles, lighting them on Twelfth Night as if challenging the entire house to stay safe from fire.

Christmas Eve is also the perfect time for ghost stories. Mark Gatiss continues his series of adaptations with another creepy tale, while we also have "A Muppet Christmas Carol," where Kermit reminds us that there’s “one more sleep” until Christmas. It’s the only moment when that phrase actually feels charming instead of cringe-worthy.

I’ll savor that enchantment for a little while longer and attend the midnight service, that special time when old traditions and modern celebrations come together at the local pub. The British have a unique ability to cheerfully embrace the chill of winter and the evergreen sights around them, while also contrasting it with the almost unbelievable image of these things in Jerusalem. The idea of light emerging from darkness is central to the Christmas narrative and adds to the beauty of Christmas Eve.

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