I didn’t really want anything explicitly “Christiany”, like the Nativity story; I actually just wanted something, y’know, “Christmassy”. I wanted something which drew me into the Christmas traditions of bygone ages, something that caught me up in the season. Descriptions of old scenes, festivities, songs, meals, stories, snow, scarves, puddings, presents, carols. All that old stuff. And, of course, I wanted to read something Christmassy whilst eating something Christmassy (otherwise you’re only half-committed to your Christmassyness). So I did the proper thing and shunned the microwave, I waited for the oven to heat up (a wait indeed), all so that the glorious homemade mince pie doesn’t do that abominable thing that microwaves make them do, where they erupt into a mini volcano of mince-lava.
It only works at Christmas.