Christmas in the UK isn’t like Christmas in Sweden. It might be obvious, considering that the UK isn’t Sweden, but it does become extra clear around this time, on Sunday, the first advent. Advent isn’t such a big deal here. The first of four candles don’t get lit and nobody is celebrating that Christmas has begun with mulled wine and gingerbread cookies sprinkled with blue cheese.
We’re trying to create Christmas feeling around us anyhow, the way we’re used to having it. Minus the julmust, gingerbread cookies, and mulled wine (even though I’ve stumbled across a version of it that tastes more like warm wine with orange and sugar, than actual mulled wine).
When we up in the mornings, Felicia crawls out of bed to light all of the 3 billion tea lights we share our flat with. Then we watch the Christmas calendar (a yearly tv series surrounding Christmas with a new episode each day of December until the 24th) still in bed on Felicia’s iPad.
The cover is still warm after the night and we curl up into two fussy balls, as if we’re never gonna get up. The everyday life gets put on hold for the short fifteen minutes the episode is on.
Once it’s over the tea lights still flicker in our tiny little studio. They’re always a kind reminder that starting the day doesn’t have to be hard, cold, and ugly.
Afterwards we had a very unchristmasy avocado toast with poached eggs for lunch with another couple we’ve met over here.
If there’s anything the UK does right it’s the decorations. They’re both better and bigger than what we usually get in Sweden. The Christmas decorations literally take over the city. They’re everywhere: in every barber’s corner, in every small shop, and in every restaurant. One worse than the other.
Just look at the incredible Christmas tree that gave us a warm welcome at Hixon Green where we ate today.
Merry, merry Christmas.