Most families have their own unique festive rituals, and my husband and I have spent this December in the manner traditional to us: squabbling. He is fully invested in every possible aspect of the season of goodwill. On the big day itself, he wears his cracker crown until it breaks, like a metaphor; I usually don’t bother unfolding mine, let alone putting it on. We’ve been married for 15 years, and weathered many storms together, but at the moment our relationship is particularly challenging. How do you cope when you’re Christmas incompatible?
In my defence, I’m not bah-humbugging at merely a rational amount of yuletide spirit. My husband is perpetually jolly as standard – it’s always the first word anybody I introduce him to uses to describe him afterwards. He’s relentlessly cheerful, endlessly enthusiastic and can be relied upon to put a positive spin on any situation. If we were trapped in a burning building, the last words I’d hear would be, “At least we’re not cold!”
