Countdown to Christmas 2025

December 1, 2025 – 24 Days to Christmas

It’s the 1st of December 2025 and time to start my annual Countdown to Christmas Calendar! The theme is friends and friendships and the format this year includes a story and a Making Friends and Maintaining Friendships Master Plan.

Story first:

Today’s Story: The Frozen Aisle Meltdown

Rebecca has been standing in the grocery store’s frozen food aisle for twenty minutes, which she knows because the same Jingle Bells instrumental has come around twice. She’s supposed to be choosing dinner for Christmas Eve. Instead, she’s having a full-blown existential crisis over whether buying the single-serving turkey dinner is admitting defeat or overdoing self-care.

Her cart contains: one (1) bottle of mulled wine, one (1) a fire engine red Poinsettia she’ll definitely drown, and seventeen (17) varieties of cheese because the divorce lawyer said she could have whatever she wanted, and apparently what she wanted was CHEESE. Also, somehow, three triple packs of TUC biscuits she doesn’t remember adding.

“You communing with that turkey or what?”

Rebecca turns. A woman roughly her age is standing there wearing a jumper with a light-up reindeer on it. Her cart looks like she’s preparing for either a Christmas dinner-for-twenty party or for the apocalypse—there are at least four whole chickens visible, plus what appears to be an entire ham.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’ve been staring at that turkey like it is about to reveal the meaning of life. I’ve lapped this aisle three times. People are starting to talk.” The woman gestures vaguely at a stock boy wearing a Santa hat who is, indeed, watching nervously.

Rebecca realises she’s crying. Not cute crying. The kind where your nose is running and you’re wiping it with your ex-husband’s Christmas sweatshirt sleeve because you haven’t unpacked the tissues yet and honestly, screw his “Feliz Navidad” sweatshirt anyway.

“Bad day?” the woman asks.

“Bad year,” Rebecca says. “Bad Christmas.” Rebecca finds herself spilling it: the move, the divorce, the new city, the job she starts the day after Boxing Day, where she knows exactly zero people, the fact that she’s been eating cereal for dinner because she hasn’t unpacked her pots yet and isn’t sure she wants to because that would make this permanent. The fact that this is her first Christmas alone in fifteen years. She stops. “Sorry. You asked a yes or no question.”

The woman wheels her apocalypse cart closer, and Rebecca notices she’s also got candy canes hooked over the side. “This frozen aisle is known locally as the meltdown section. It’s an accepted thing. We’ve all lost it at least once. Christmas just makes it worse, doesn’t it?” She extends her hand. “Diana. Professional frozen aisle crisis counsellor. Unpaid. Overworked in December.”

They shake hands. Rebecca’s hand is cold from holding the freezer door open.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” Diana says with the authority of a military general. “Put down the single-serving turkey dinner. That’s depression food, and we’re not there yet—we’re in the angry cheese phase, which I see you’ve nailed.” She points at Rebecca’s cart. “You’re gonna get the family-size rotisserie chicken, and you’re gonna eat it for three days straight, like the empowered, independent woman you are. Christmas dinner doesn’t have to be turkey. Christmas dinner can be whatever you want it to be. With cheese.”

“That’s… weirdly specific advice.”

“I did four months on roasted chicken after my divorce. Started on Christmas Day, actually. I ate it cold out of the container at 2 AM like a gremlin, while watching Love Actually and crying. You know what? I survived. I thrived. I learned that ‘serving size’ is a construct invented by people with large families.”

Rebecca laughs, which comes out as a concerning honk-sob sound. The stock boy in the Santa hat takes a step back.

“Also,” Diana continues, loading whole cooked chickens into Rebecca’s cart without asking, “you’re coming to Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow night.”

“I don’t—I can’t just—”

“It’s at my place. Seven PM. Bunch of random disasters, trying to figure out life and survive the holidays. Last week, Martin brought his emotional support chicken. The animal, not the food. It wore a tiny Santa hat and a sweater. We’re all very supportive of each other’s journeys, especially this time of year.” Diana pulls out her phone. “Give me your number before you have time to overthink it.”

Rebecca, who has not had a friend in this city for the approximately eight days she’s lived here, finds herself reciting her number.

“Perfect. Fair warning: none of us has got our acts together. Two weeks ago, someone brought wine in a 2-litre water bottle. Another person brought their dating app profile for workshopping. We told him to delete the photo where he’s holding a fish while wearing a Christmas jumper. He did not take it well. Not the world’s brightest – hopefully that’s only temporarily.”

“I don’t even know you,” Rebecca says, but she’s smiling.

“You knew me well enough to share your breakdown with me. That’s basically third-date territory.” Diana’s phone buzzes. “That’s my timer. I’ve been here too long, and my child thinks I’ve been kidnapped. He doesn’t understand that grocery shopping is my meditation, even when they’re playing All I Want For Christmas on loop.” She starts wheeling away, then turns back. “Oh, and Rebecca?”

“Yeah?”

“Bring whatever. Store-bought is fine. We had someone bring a frozen bag of broccoli last month, wrapped in tinsel and Christmas paper. She’s no longer in charge of organising the New Year’s party.”

Next episode will be in tomorrow’s Countdown to Christmas 2025 email.

The Make Friends and Maintain Friendships Masterplan

Friendship is a gift we often overlook. This season, let’s focus on fostering connection and finding comfort in the bonds we share with others. Take a moment today to reflect on the friends in your life—past, present, and those you wish to reconnect with.

Every day, we’ll explore a new way to deepen friendships, lean on others, and bring warmth to this holiday season as we implement the Make Friends and Maintain Friendships Masterplan.

Today, notice someone who looks like they’re struggling in a public space this week—and say something kind, even if it feels awkward. Worst case scenario: They look at you like you just asked them to join a pyramid scheme selling artisanal, gluten-free air. They walk away thinking you’re charmingly odd… or just seriously odd. Best case scenario: You accidentally spark a spontaneous conversation. Someone else overhears. Suddenly, three strangers are bonding over questionable life choices, and the fact that none of you know how to fold fitted sheets.

Making friends and maintaining friendships can be complicated. Would you like to find out what type of friend YOU are? How well do you know your friends? If you and a new friend are really compatible? I have created a set of light-hearted quizzes to help you do just that. Just fill in the form below, and you’ll get immediate access to all of them. I’ll also add you to my newsletter list, though you can unsubscribe from this list effortlessly and at any time. Included:

  • How well do you know your Friends? Quiz
  • What is your Friendship Style? and Are your Friendship Styles compatible? Quiz
  • 20 of the Most Inspiring Friends and Friendship Quotes and
  • 20 lighthearted Questions you can ask to get to know a new Friend

“I am an experienced medical doctor – MBChB, MRCGP, NLP master pract cert, Transformational Life Coach (dip.) Life Story Coach (cert.) Stress Counselling (cert.) Med Hypnotherapy (dip.) and EAGALA (cert.) I may have an impressive number of letters after my name, and more than three decades of professional experience, but what qualifies me to excel at what I do is my intuitive understanding of my clients’ difficulties and my extensive personal experience of managing major life changes using strategies I developed over many years.” Dr M Montagu

Recent (and not so recent) Blog Posts – there are more than 450 now.

Last Year’s Christmas Countdown Calendar post

All content of this website is copyrighted. You cannot copy the content of this page