Lifestyle

Why I’m dreaming of a covid Christmas



Victoria Derbyshire has got it all wrong.

The presenter began the day tweeting an apology after revealing in an interview that she was planning to flout covid restrictions in order to spend Christmas with her family.

The journalist told the Radio Times: “If the rule of six is still in place… we’re breaking it to have the rule of seven. We just are.”

“It’s fine. We’ll do it knowing what the risks are. We’re not stupid,” she added. “We’re going to be sensible and buy a thermometer gun. But we have to be together at Christmas.”


Naturally, her confession went down like a coughing fit on a crowded Tube – and she has backtracked. It is just not the done thing for public figures to admit they consider themselves above the rules – no matter how confusing and maddening they are.

But actually, in this case, sticking to the guidelines has its perks. I for one will be following the rules to the letter come December 25. Not because I’m particularly upstanding, but because I can’t think of anything more wonderful than a family-less Christmas in London, just my husband and me.

I am counting down the days and fantasising about what I will do, liberated from the shackles of a family Christmas; a shamefully long lie-in; what’s left of the morning spent eating whatever it is I want – no turkey required; and the freedom to take control of the TV remote without a debate about which saccharine Christmas special to collectively endure this year. A properly indulgent day.

The unbearably boring tradition of watching other people open their presents? Not this year. Rambunctious kids hyped up on Quality Street and consumerism? Nah, not into it. Waking up on Boxing Day stuck in the burbs with a banging brandy headache? Hell to the no.

2020 has been tough enough, this Christmas it’ll just be my bah humbug bubble and me.



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