What To Do In London On Christmas

So, you’re in London for Christmas. First, take a deep breath. You’ve just signed up for a festive marathon of drizzle, queues, and questionable mince pies. But honestly, it’s the best kind of chaos—like trying to assemble IKEA furniture after two glasses of mulled wine. You’ll be fine, I promise.

Start With a Walk That Feels Like a Movie Scene

Forget the Tube. Your first move is to walk from Oxford Street to Covent Garden at dusk. The lights are so bright, you’ll feel like you’ve swallowed a snow globe. Yes, it’s crowded, but that’s half the joy—you’re all in this together, dodging tourists and selfie sticks like a weird, jolly flash mob.

Pro tip: wear waterproof shoes.

London in December is like a teenager who says “I’m fine” but is secretly crying. One minute it’s drizzling, the next it’s a full-on downpour that soaks your socks. Your feet will thank you later, and so will the people standing next to you on the train.

Eat Everything, Especially the Stuff You’d Never Try

Christmas markets are your new best friend. Southbank is the king—think bratwurst, crepes, and mulled wine that tastes like Christmas tree magic mixed with regret. But here’s the real move: buy a toffee apple from a random stall. It’s sticky, it’s messy, and you’ll look like a toddler, but it’s the most British thing you can do without wearing a bowler hat.

Don’t overthink the food. On Christmas Eve, every pub in London turns into a warm, boozy hug. Walk into a pub like The Lamb and Flag in Covent Garden—it’s tiny, ancient, and smells like roast potatoes and spilled ale. Order a pint, point at the menu, and say “surprise me.” The bartender will roll his eyes, but he’ll love you for it.

The Ice Skating “Tradition” (That You’ll Either Love or Loathe)

You have to try ice skating at Somerset House or the Natural History Museum. The reality? It’s a hilarious disaster. You’ll wobble like a penguin on rollerblades, clutching the side rail while a five-year-old girl zips past you backwards. But the setting—the twinkling lights, the frosty air, the Christmas song playing over bad speakers—makes it magic. Just don’t pretend you’re an Olympian. Nobody cares.

The secret to surviving it

Go at the end of the day, when everyone’s tired and the rink is a bit sticky. You’ll fall less, laugh more, and the hot chocolate afterward will taste like heaven in a cup. Also, if you fall, do not try to get up gracefully. Just roll onto your belly and laugh. Trust me.

Christmas Eve: The “We’re All Kids Again” Hour

At 4pm on December 24th, everything shuts. The streets go quiet, and you’ll feel like you’re in a post-apocalyptic movie where everyone is at home eating turkey. This is your cue to do something stupidly fun: go to a midnight mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral even if you’re not religious. The singing is so beautiful, it’ll make you cry—or at least pretend you have an eyelash in your eye.

Or, be a heathen and go see a pantomime. Yes, it’s adults in silly costumes, shouting “He’s behind you!” at a stage. It’s ridiculous, and you’ll hate yourself for enjoying it. But by the end, you’ll be screaming along with everyone else. That’s London Christmas for you.

Christmas Day: The Lonely Tourist’s Paradise

If you’re alone on Christmas day, don’t panic. Check into a nice hotel (try The Zetter in Clerkenwell) and order the full Christmas dinner from room service. Yes, you’ll eat it in your pyjamas while watching Die Hard on your laptop. It’s perfect. Or, if you’re feeling brave, join a pub’s “orphan’s lunch”—a table for people without family nearby. The strangers there will become your temporary aunties. You’ll share stories, laugh too loud, and probably cry when someone brings out a box of Quality Street.

But wait, there’s a catch

The buses don’t run on Christmas Day. So if you’re staying in a hotel, don’t think you’ll casually stroll to a park. You’ll be stranded in your little bubble, and that’s exactly the charm. You’re forced to slow down and notice the quiet—something London never allows.

Boxing Day: The Shopping Apocalypse

December 26th is Boxing Day sales. Imagine Black Friday, but with British politeness and a lot of tutting. Harrods becomes a human pinball machine. If you go, wear armour—or just wait until late afternoon when the crowds thin out. Your prize? A discounted teapot and a story about the woman who almost fought you for a cashmere scarf.

Or, skip the shops entirely. Go to Hampstead Heath for a walk. The views are stunning, the air is crisp, and you’ll feel smug watching the shopping bags below. Plus, there’s a pond where you can feed swans. They’re as grumpy as Londoners, but they’ll take your stale crackers.

The Final Bit: Do Nothing, But Do It Well

Here’s the truth: The best thing to do in London on Christmas is to wander without a plan. Get lost in a residential street in Islington and admire the fairy lights in people’s windows. Buy a warm chestnut from a street vendor and burn your fingers. Watch the ice skaters at the Tower of London while holding a takeaway coffee that’s 90% milk, 10% coffee. Let your phone die. That’s the real gift.

By the end, you’ll have done nothing “major”—unless you count eating four mince pies in a row as an Olympic sport. London at Christmas is a messy, beautiful, slightly damp hug. And honestly? That’s all you need. Now go forth and find your mulled wine.