How to Make Christmas Feel Magical Again as an Adult

For me, Christmas doesn't suddenly begin when the big tree goes up.

It starts much earlier, in tiny signs.

We usually take our summer holiday in early September. When we come home, I start decorating for autumn. On 1 October, Halloween arrives. And once Halloween comes back down, Christmas begins to creep into the house.

It might be seeing a brilliant advent calendar. Christmas things appearing in the shops. Buying the first present for Bas. A film I suddenly want to watch again.

The big tree is the moment when it feels properly Christmas - and ours is usually up at least a month before Christmas, often earlier - but I love the build-up almost as much as the day itself.

Anticipation is part of Christmas.

I start buying presents for Bas in September.

Partly, that's practical. Spreading the cost over several months makes Christmas easier. But I also genuinely enjoy beginning early.

I love advent calendars for the same reason. It's not only what's behind the little door. It's having something small waiting for you tomorrow.

Christmas markets work like that too. So does choosing the evening you'll decorate the tree, planning what you'll eat on Christmas Eve or deciding when the annual Home Alone rewatch is officially allowed.

If Christmas feels flatter as an adult, try putting some of the waiting back into it.

Don't make December one enormous to-do list. Give yourself little landmarks on the way.

I have eight Christmas trees, so decorating our house in one afternoon would be ambitious even by my standards.

I put them up over several days.

I actually like that.

Christmas doesn't arrive in one dramatic reveal. One corner changes, then another. The lights begin appearing. Eventually the big tree goes up in the sitting room and that's when I get the strongest feeling that Christmas is really here.

I make a day of decorating that tree. Christmas music goes on. The boxes come out. Bas helps assemble it and then I start rediscovering the ornaments.

Prince. Coffee. Crisps. Coca-Cola. Things we've brought home from trips. Nijntje. A collection of Vondels ornaments that includes a frikandel speciaal, bitterbal, kroket and chips.

It is not a restrained tree.

But it's Christmas. I think that's allowed.

The ornaments don't all have to match. They have to mean something.

One of my favourite things about December is simply the lights.

I love seeing them in other people's front gardens. I love driving into a street where house after house has been decorated. I love arriving home and finding our own lights already on.

Our Christmas lighting is on timers, so as it begins to get dark, the house changes by itself.

I don't come home to darkness and then switch Christmas on.

It's already waiting for me.

That's a tiny detail, but I think adult Christmas magic lives in tiny details.

There is a strange pressure now to keep finding new things.

New recipes. New films. New decorating trends. A different Christmas experience every year.

I don't really understand why Christmas needs that.

I want to watch Home Alone again. And The Santa Clause. Harry Potter inevitably appears too.

I want to visit Christmas markets again.

I want to decorate the tree again.

I want the things that tell my brain: this is the season we've been waiting for.

Sometimes repetition is what turns something into a tradition.

Bas and I exchange our presents on Christmas Eve.

We eat picky bits and watch a Christmas film.

It isn't complicated, which is probably why I love it so much.

Christmas Day can easily fill up with family plans, meals and expectations. Christmas Eve feels like our little piece of the holiday.

If you're trying to make Christmas feel special again as an adult, create one part of it that belongs entirely to you - or to the two of you.

It can be dinner, a film, a walk to see the lights, opening presents, reading by the tree or ordering takeaway.

There are no Christmas police.

Because our presents are already opened, Christmas morning doesn't need to begin at full speed.

We have a long breakfast with freshly squeezed orange juice, warm bake-off rolls and Christmas music.

No rush.

That's part of Christmas for me too. Not another activity to squeeze into the day, but permission to let the morning take as long as it takes.

One of the nicest things about Christmas as an adult is realising that you are allowed to recreate the things you miss from childhood.

I loved the anticipation. Decorating the house and tree. Being together. The food. The ridiculous amount of presents.

I can't recreate childhood itself, nor would I want to.

But I can take the pieces that mattered and bring them into our life now.

We can gourmet together. I can surprise someone with a small present. I can put on Christmas pyjamas and ridiculous Christmas socks. I can get under a blanket and watch a film I've already seen twenty times.

I get to decide what stays.

Adult life is very good at turning celebrations into project management.

Budgets. Shopping lists. Timings. Reservations. Who is bringing what. When do we need to leave?

Some of that is necessary.

But don't organise Christmas so efficiently that you forget to enjoy it.

Leave an evening with nothing planned except the tree lights.

Bake something because the house will smell good.

Buy the silly ornament.

Take the longer route home because that street has beautiful lights.

Put the Christmas film on again.

Not everything needs to be useful.