Twixmas and the truth about why people liked lockdown

We don’t have a standardised name for the little clutch of strange days between Christmas and New Year. There is an aesthetic to Boxing Day – hearty walks, reheated leftovers, scraps of wrapping paper – but from then till New Years Eve we enter an in between time. I’ve heard several informal and colloquial references to it, things like The Lull, The Interregnum, The Aftermath – but the lack of a recognised term seems fitting.

There is the merest echo of the pre-modern twelve days of Christmas, or Twelvetide, though nowadays we are all back at work long before the drummers drumming make their appearance. 

No name means no rules, no rituals, nothing in particular that you should or should not be doing. For some people, myself included, this disregarded little pit stop is one of the highlights of the year. Both the preparation and the feast of Christmas proper is done, leaving us with undone trouser buttons, an array of choice meats, cheeses and preserves, and if we’re lucky, many thoughtful gifts to read, watch and listen to.