I’m heading to Oslo for the holidays. My parents’ house is on
the edge of a forest, so we plan to ski the stunning trails and
soak up the scenery. I’ll most likely run into a moose – it’s
seriously wild out there. A s’mores session is essential: we’ll see
how quickly my two small city boys adapt to off-grid living,
particularly the obsession my Viking dad has with making everything
from scratch. In Norway, the tradition is to put the tree up on 23
December. Each year, I bring a festive decoration from Liberty’s
dazzling Christmas shop – sure, we love simple Scandi decor, but
everyone needs a little sparkle in their lives. I’m most excited to
wind down, reunite with loved ones and consume as much of my
favourite childhood candy as possible. This is my last Christmas in
my 20s, so I’m absolutely taking the opportunity to be a big
kid.

Apart from a compulsory jaunt to Columbia Road’s raucous
Christmas Wednesdays carol service, I plan to
have a relatively quiet Christmas this year. Boxing Day is when the
festivities will really start, when I’ll be jetting off to join my
dad, sister and nephews in Bali. My dad’s lived in Asia for the last four
years and my sister and I have dreamed of a family trip to visit
him – this year, we’ve actually managed to make it happen. We’ll be
lapping up the sunshine on Gili Gede, a lesser-known Indonesian
island that’s only spoken about in whispers, before a weekend city
fling in Singapore.

For the first time in three years, I’ll be travelling to my
beautiful home country, Malta to spend the festive season with
friends and family. I’ll eat (and eat) the glorious food my
grandparents will prepare for my return – I’ll absolutely be
arriving back in the UK a stone heavier and that’s totally fine.
This year, I’ll be hosting our family Christmas lunch, something
which I’ve been practising and practising for over the last few
months in the hope of dishing up a feast better than my mum’s. I’ll
be spending days flitting between Malta’s beaches, basking in the
glorious December sun with my furry friend, Rosie. Oh, and I’ll be
enjoying a glass (or three) of red, too.

After a short stop-off in Warwick for some festive celebrations
with my boyfriend’s family (carolling by lantern light at the
historic castle and scoffing Neapolitan pies beneath the wacky,
Sicilian-inspired interiors of Red Hot
Mamma), I’ll be making my annual Christmas pilgrimage down to
East Hampshire’s rolling hills. There, I’ll be joining my family
for the celebrations: cue, frosty morning dog walks, a Chichester
Cathedral carol service, rural pub visits, festive brunching at the
brilliant Josie’s or the ever-dependable Cowdray Estate,
and last-minute gift-hunting in the indie shops spread across the
South Downs – Stuff & Co is great for UK-made stocking fillers.
After a whistle-stop London NYE, I’m hitting the slopes in Laax,
Switzerland – here’s hoping I stay upright on my skis long enough
to make it to Stalla, the must-visit raclette spot I’ve been told
to make tracks (in the snow) to.

Sometimes the best laid plans are those barely laid at all.
Hence a couple of weeks ago, I acted on a whim and booked into an
unassuming riad on the fringe of Marrakech’s medina. No set itinerary – just a
loose plan to thread my way through the streets of a city I’ll be
discovering for the first time over the New Year. Top of my Red
City stops will be Moro, a concept store from the team behind The
Moroccans skincare brand, set just off rue Yves Saint Laurent and
hawking handmade jewellery, clothing and – d’accord – beauty
products. I’ll also be hitting Maison de la
Photographie de Marrakech, a museum dedicated to the diverse
ways Morocco has been depicted through the lens since photography’s
invention. And, partly because I’m always homesick for Sydney at
this time of year but mostly because it’s getting glowing reviews,
I’ve snared a table at Plus 61, a breezy, Aussie-run restaurant fusing
flavours from the Mediterranean, Middle East and South Asia.

I’ll be spending Christmas at my family’s house on North
Cornwall’s rugged coastline, near the postcard-pretty town of
St Agnes. Christmas Day always looks like a
blustery walk along Perranporth beach, which often includes – for
those brave enough – a dip in the ocean. On Boxing Day, we plan to
stomp across to our local watering hole in Bolingey, for old-school
pub grub and a tipple. This year, I’ve opted for a different
set-up, booking one of Olla Hiki Sauna’s snug shepherd huts to be my
base. There, I’ll be able to run from the sea straight into a
steaming wood-fired sauna. And for NYE, there’ll be a coastal pub
crawl, obvs, starting from St Agnes and ending at Trevaunance Cove.
I’m most looking forward to a cold pint at Driftwood
Spars.

Following a short (but sweet) Alpine adventure on the slopes,
I’ll be returning to my hometown in the heart of the Surrey Hills,
where Christmas will be spent with my family and friends. After
tearing around the nearby chocolate-box villages on a last-minute
gift-sourcing mission (a talent I can only say I’m proud of), I’ll
be stomping around the hills, foraging for foliage in preparation
for crafting my annual handmade wreath. Each day will start with a
hike around the scenic surrounds, after which I’ll no doubt reward
myself with a feast at my favourite pub, The Derby
Arms, a snug spot that serves undisturbed views of London’s
skyline. In between the cheese board slumps, festive film marathons
and mulled wine sessions, I’m most looking forward to long, lazy
afternoons spent with my siblings beside the roaring open fire.

I’ll be holed up in (snowy?) London this Christmas, but eating
my way around the world by way of sunny brunches at Chet’s, the Thai-Americana restaurant in The
Hoxton’s new Shepherd’s Bush outpost; festive lunches at Heritage, Soho’s
Swiss-inspired mecca to all things molten cheese; and overindulgent
dinners at W9’s Greek-Cypriot neighbourhood joint Tsiakkos &
Charcoal. Santa, I really tried…

This year, I’ll be swapping the city for Shropshire’s sprawling
countryside to join my in-laws for Christmas. We’ll spend the
Twixmas period walking the Stiperstones ridge (ending at The
Stiperstones Inn for a well-deserved drink by the fire),
meandering around the cute market town of Shrewsbury and stocking
up on the finest local produce from my favourite farm shop,
Churncote.
And, in case we haven’t already eaten enough by this point, we’ll
be sampling the menu at the much-raved-about The Bear
Inn in Hodnet, too.