It’s December, which means I can legitimately discuss Christmas in this column.
For several weeks now, I have been subjected to social media campaigns along the lines of: “It’s only November.”
One featured Slade singer Noddy Holder - seasoned bellower of the line “It’s CHRIIIIIIST-MAAAAAS!” – delivering a two-word warning complete with pointy finger: “Not yet.”
But here we are, finally, several days into the chocolate-stuffed advent calendar, dutifully carried out each day as a dessert to breakfast.
This week, it even snowed. In Cornwall!
“RABBIT!” shouted Daughter, gesturing out of the window where one of the pair – the white one, natch – was bounding happily through drifting white flakes. Her sister, although tucked up cosily inside, turned out to be soaking wet so had clearly had fun of her own before thinking better of it (as the escapee quickly did).
Christmas lights have been switched on in over the past couple of weeks: first the big towns (Truro, St Austell, Camborne, Redruth), next the smaller siblings: Mevagissey, Tregony.
There was the odd unsavoury incident. Truro’s Festive Friday sank briefly into crush territory, while a number of arrests were made among young people for “incidents of large-scale disorder”. But on the whole, 25,000 people turned out with nothing but good will and, from Wednesday, debit cards to spend at the new German market-style wooden huts.
In Angarrack, the 12 Days of Christmas light trail draws thousands of visitors each year; the switch-on was on Saturday, but it was set to be 11 Days of Christmas due to one rather fetching bauble being stolen.
Who would do such a thing? How and where would one hide it? You can’t exactly stick it in your garden and impress the neighbours without advertising the crime.
Some private homes have gone the extra mile, resulting in displays that look like someone has thrown the entire contents of their loft at their house and garden. In St Austell, Colin Marshall was the leading man in this department; his retirement has left the way clear for Arran Gandy of Manor Close to fill his shoes.
Arran is leaning into the challenge, having invested in 10,000 LEDs, a rooftop display, a garden winter wonderland including a “mega-tree”, a tunnel of lights over the driveway and a snow machine. He describes the display as “a hobby that’s got out of control”; last year it raised £1,800 for Cornwall Air Ambulance.
I have made it clear to Daughter that we will not be following suit and, to echo Noddy Holder, it’s “not yet” to anything too festive. I’ve baked the cake and we’ve eaten our first homemade mince pies, but the decks and tree can wait another week or even two.
I haven’t even ordered the food yet. Perhaps the big lunch will be influenced by press release about cutting down the calories on Christmas Day.
Home gym equipment suppliers Mirafit reliably inform me I will need to run for 2 hours and 1 minute precisely to work off the 1,500 calories of the traditional roast, and that’s not even factoring in the 1,172 of pudding.
Further advice – from supplement hawkers Bulk, no less – suggests not wrapping the turkey in bacon, using an airfryer and choosing a low-cal prosecco etc. I will be ignoring this without a shred of guilt.
For goodness’ sake, if you can’t have a blow-out on one day of the year, when can you? So the Christmas roast consists of your full day’s allowance – who eats anything else on the day?
Other words of wisdom in my inbox include in-depth instructions on how to clean an artificial Christmas tree (set aside a day or two and be prepared to refluff the branches), and how to avoid awkward misinterpretations with your Secret Santa gift (keep it innocuous, be aware of cultural differences, avoid deodorant).