Jennifer O’Connell: have a mediocre little Christmas

If you’re anything like me, you don’t need to read this at all. You’re already sorted. The turkey has been brining overnight in saltwater bottled at the Dead Sea, and the cranberries have been crushed by the feet of tiny, dancing angels. The gifts, which were procured last February, have been lovingly wrapped in artisan-made, Swarovski-crystal encrusted paper.

No? So it’s not just me who will be stumbling out of her festive onesie at around 3pm to launch a panicked, last ditch assault on Smyth’s?

I lie: I don’t even own a festive onesie. Because that would have required me, at some point in the past, realising that Christmas falls every year on December 25th, and planning ahead accordingly.

If anyone is qualified to give advice on how to pull a slightly-worse-than-average Christmas out of the hat at the last minute, with minimal effort and a lamentable lack of style, it's me. In the unlikely event that I ever start a lifestyle blog, it will be called "Drink Wine and Wing it", and it will feature such nuggets as how to lounge around watching Elf in pyjamas you bought for €4 when you were 39 weeks pregnant, while someone else does the cooking.

But as my mother always said on Christmas morning, as the septic tank overflows or the cooker explodes or a child is stricken with the winter vomiting bug, it’s only a day. So in that spirit, don’t panic. Help is at hand.

Passive aggressive aphorisms

When I say “help”, I obviously mean the lifestyle blog to which I turn at this time every year for cheap and cheerful gift advice, Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop.

Goop has been in full festive war-room mode since about July so, let’s be honest, there’s not likely to be a lot on there for people who find themselves entirely gift-free 12 hours before the off. But you have to start your shopping inspiration somewhere.

This year, Gwynnie's lucky pals will be getting a set of flashcards, bearing such inspirational messages as, "We have to bear with our own and other's flaws because to eradicate them would likely mean losing the virtues too." I say let's not eradicate anyone this Christmas, even for crimes against apostrophes. Instead, simply sign your loved one up to Facebook, which is awash with grammatically dubious and vaguely passive aggressive aphorisms every day of the year.

Gwyneth suggests gifting a $35 “hand-crafted, naturally cold-retaining stone” that can be popped in a drink to keep it cool. I think we can all agree there’s no need to go overboard – or even further than your own back garden – here: just remember to wash the earth off it before you wrap it.

Also on her list is a $195 smartwatch "designed to limit smartwatch dependence". For a more affordable alternative, try the Argos men's black watch for €8.99 which, not being a smartwatch, should help limit smartwatch dependence. Her lucky loved ones will also be getting a tasting set of bone broth for $70 – for a similar vibe, try Dunnes or Tesco, where three tins of Baxters chicken broth can be procured for under €6. Win!

A particularly posh and sultry fairy

Now your shopping’s done, let’s turn to Nigella for the catering. For many years, Nigella reigned over Christmas like a particularly posh and sultry fairy on top of the tree. But ever since her personal life got messy, her efforts at festive planning have felt decidedly slapdash.

If I was to choose a theme to which I’ll be aspiring this, and every, Christmas, “slapdash” would be it.

This year, according to her blog, as guests arrive she’ll be giving them a panettone stuffing square – a bizarre confection “like a savoury brownie” involving stale cake mashed-up with bacon, chestnuts, sage and apples. She doesn’t say anything about the turkey, but she won’t need to worry about it: one bite of the frankly vomitous-sounding savoury brownie will have all her guests feigning food poisoning, and rushing home to eat turkey slices on top of a Goodfella’s pizza. Like I say, Nigella is a genius.

If you are absolutely determined to serve turkey, good luck finding consensus on how it should be cooked. Heston Blumenthal suggests you cook it at 130 degrees. Gordon Ramsey says 220 degrees. Nigel Slater says to turn it upside down and cook it at 180 degrees. I say, forget about it, and instead channel Jennifer Lawrence, who told Graham Norton that, although she did once cook a chicken "and no-one got sick", she plans to spend Christmas day drinking wine and chain-smoking out the window of her mother's house.

The secret to a more enjoyable Christmas is, I have found, the secret to a more enjoyable life generally: aspire for mediocrity, and you’re unlikely to be disappointed. So have a mediocre little Christmas. Whatever your bad habits are – eating, drinking, brawling – abandon yourself to them, ideally while wearing pyjamas and hanging out the window of your mother’s house, flicking little bits of panettone stuffing squares at passers-by.

And if even all that manages to go wrong, remember it’s only a day.