The unmistakable off-pitch rendition of “Silent Night” by a primary school choir alerted me to my hangover early on a freezing Saturday last month.
Waking up to the nativity-esque scene could mean only one thing: my ever-over-the-top road, which doesn’t even have a primary school, might I add, was having its own Christmas light turn-on event for residents. This much I knew – but the pop-up party of carolers and new technicolour trees had not been on my radar.
With my third year of living in London, and my first as a non-student with “real life” responsibilities, came an out-of-character disdain for Christmas tourist traps; having shunned seasonal cliches I turned to TikTok to find cooler inspiration, only to come up short.
Now that everyone and their cat has a Soho House membership, this seems to be the year where frolics in the countryside as a “frazzled English woman” are trending, alongside steeply priced staycations to match hours away from south west London. Given the price tag, I quickly gave up on my dreams of fleeing London’s palette of greys for quaint market towns to channel my inner Amanda Woods from The Holiday. Instead, I vowed to change my Scrooge-like tune for advent, and stay put for some actual Christmas spirit in my own city.
What followed was a revelation: weeks of cynicism-free festivities on the doorstep of my daily life that I’d been taking for granted.
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With an open mind and forgiving heart, I decided that it was time to get over the post-pandemic Winter Wonderland entry fee – now £7.50 at peak times if you’re late to the hate train – and accept that the Christmas calendar staple is whatever you make it.
Bank breaking? Yes. The kind of fun that’s only possible if you lean into the overpriced pints and bang-average street food? Also yes. But between heart-racing rides, a tent built for belting Christmas tunes and – my kryptonite – pots of chocolate churros, I found myself unexpectedly happy to get tapping with contactless in Hyde Park.
It certainly helped that next up on my anti-Scrooge tour was a completely free event: Carnaby Street’s annual Christmas light turn-on.
This year Carnaby Street has a whole solar system of lights overhead— (Natalie Wilson)
Though I’ll admit that my enjoyment of the impressive solar-system “Carnaby Universe” show was measured entirely on how many free cocktails, hot chocolates and mini Tony’s chocolonely bars I scored without spending, the event was an uplifting alternative to my standard commute home in the dark post nine-to-five, and ideal for discounts on early present shopping.
Speaking of which, instead of bowling out eye rolls at the mere suggestion of Harrods in December while hosting far-flung friends, I braved the crammed maze of escalators to “ooh” and “ah” at this year’s Christmas bear – Ethan. The shining star of Knightsbridge, though hellishly busy, provided great inspiration for opulent Christmas trees to come (post-lottery win) and satisfied the magpie in me with wall-to-wall glitter and glitz.
Harrod’s ‘Christmas World’ is unrivalled for floor-to-ceiling decorations this December— (Getty Images)
Another staple of December Instagram stories, the iconic ice skating rink on the grounds of Somerset House is a classic for wrapping up ski-style during a 45-minute crash course on staying upright while skittering around like Bambi. This year, Skate Lates are putting a new spin on the rink at the Strand favourite, complete with a Whispering Angel lounge and beats from local DJs as you slip and slide on the popular but not overcrowded ice.
As a professional swerver of ice skating plans with my ex-figure skating pals, this was my most dreaded festive effort. However, hand in hand with my fellow ice novice flatmate, the sliced-off fingers I had envisioned were thankfully absent. I even managed to peel my spare hand from the side for some interpretive arm waving to Haseeb Iqbal’s music on rejuvenating laps of the rink.
Skate Lates feature DJs, radio hosts and music producers— (Natalie Wilson)
It’s also around this time of year that après ski lodges, chalets, huts and bars appear all over the city – built for what particular “after” remains unclear, seeing as London is totally devoid of mountain peaks.
Being completely honest, the dimly lit cheese and wine bars of Soho and Embankment are a far more appealing prospect than hastily constructed après haunts with questionable fondues and ski memorabilia, but as a 23-year-old who still believes all wine is good wine, I gave one a chance.
At Tipis on the Green, the hearty French dishes you’d expect, from beef bourguignon to French onion soup and tartiflette, are all present and correct on the menu from Streetfood And More, and the Parson’s Green pop-up has nailed cosy for fireside winter’s evenings. Better still, I found a sense of community unusual for the capital while seated on the bench tables. Helpful loaded fries recommendations and discussions on the predictably shocking weather made for a much more pleasant evening than anticipated.
The Alpine pop-up is open until 22 December— (Tipis on the Green)
Loaded hot dogs at Southbank’s Winter Market and mugs of mulled concoctions wherever I could get hold of them concluded my three weeks of London festivities. By the end of my cynicism-free stint, I finally got it: there’s a reason thousands flock to enjoy the capital’s festivities every year. It’s time to embrace being a tourist in your own city this winter – you might just find yourself pleasantly surprised.
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