In every family, there's an overexcited loon who's been wearing a Christmas hat since October - but there's also the determined Scrooge who'd rather eat coal than play charades.
Which character will be around the Christmas tree this year?
Presents. Sweets. Cousins. Lights. Tree. ARGHHHHHHHH IT’S TOO EXCITING. You’ve been awake since 4am, creeping noisily about the house to ‘check’ if people are up. You’ve opened 95% of your presents already and you’re wondering where the Supermax Powerbot you asked Father Christmas for last night is.
You’ll spend the day alternating between unmanageable excitement and gleeful threats of impending vomit, having consumed an entire box of chocolate liqueurs meant for Granny - and a few bath crystals for good measure.
Months of preparation, days of shopping, hours of wrapping presents...it’s finally here. The perfect presents, the perfect family, the perfect stuffing Aunty Sue just has to have.
You’ll spend the day herding children and relatives, thinking only of the quiet half hour after dinner when you can collapse with a Bailey’s and the trashy novel your mother-in-law buys you every year. You’re a saint and you make Christmas happen.
If you had your way, Christmas would be celebrated about every 5 years and for an hour at the very outside. You’ve been tangled in lights, carted round shops and you’ve lost most of the hair on your arms to Sellotape.
Once the hullaballoo of the day is waning, you’ll slip off to the space room to watch Dad’s Army reruns, accompanied by a metre-long tube of Jaffa Cakes and a cold turkey sandwich.
Breakfast consisted of a mince pie and 3 glasses of Buck’s Fizz. You’ll start the Christmas celebrations singing festive songs of yore, imagining yourself back in the arms of that handsome officer you met in 1943.
Later, you’ll make people waltz with you while Uncle Jim plays the piano rather badly. Charades will be mandatory and you’ll end the day falling asleep in your Christmas hat, clutching your new slippers.
For you, Christmas day is just something you have to do - though you wouldn't admit to your mates that it's kind of nice. You’ll take your share of turkey cutting (and do a better job than Dad, whose stress levels are veering dangerously into the red) and you’ll even long-sufferingly hand your phone over to the littl’un when their boredom starts spilling over.
Later, when everyone else has nodded tipsily off into their trifle, you’ll quietly let yourself out into the cool night air, free at last. It’ll be nice to spend some time with people who don’t force insane festive jumpers over your head and show old home videos of you in the bath with your cousins.