Meghan Markle’s guide to getting through Boxing Day

British Boxing Day rituals For the uninitiated, there is a lot to learn

We should all spare a thought for Meghan Markle this Boxing Day. Poor Meghan, whose being American means she will be entirely unfamiliar with the Boxing Day routine (and extended festive period) in which the sun doesn’t shine, and there’s no chance whatsoever of slipping away for a spot of Hatha yoga or a Nutribullet brunch. For the rest of us, today’s rituals are second nature, but for the uninitiated there is quite a lot to be learnt. For example:

The compulsory anyweather walk. For which boots must be found and everyone must be super enthusiastic and refrain from pointing out that the walk is not particularly scenic (the last 20 minutes trudging down an A road). The reconstituting of leftovers. There is the Christmas pudding to be rolled into small balls and fried. There’s the turkey to be turned into kedgeree (or more realistically, sandwiches). The leftover sprouts, for which there is some fancy plan involving pancetta (mmm). There’s the ham to be had with something, so long as it’s not anything fresh.

You have to keep drinking, obviously, but all the good stuff has gone. You are down to the wine bought specifically for the under25s (who cottoned on to that on Christmas Eve and made a beeline for the “stuff with the cork”). It does seem not particularly Christmas spirited to have a drinks triage system, but then they all drink like Oliver Reed at a junket. Compulsory watching of “The Big Family Show” on TV. Could be Only Fools

and Horses. Could be Elf. Could be The Crown (though probs not at Sandringham, given the spoilers on various storylines). Either way, everyone has to watch festive re-runs of shows in a stab at recreating the magic of times gone by, and proving to the young ones that TV, even when politically incorrect and odd, is a bonding activity – not something you do alone on your laptop or phone. Working on the dog. This is the day when everyone tries to get the dog to love them most and ideally get the dog to sleep on them so they don’t have to get up and do things. “I can’t, I’ve got the dog” … “You can’t squeeze in here, I’ve got the dog”, and so on. Playing games. The one and only time of the year when you will be required to play either Boggle or Trivial Pursuit or Racing Demon. Or Pelmanism (which for some reason, we can imagine MM excelling at). Also some variation on charades, which again, will be MM’S forte. Though note: you win no friends at charades by being really good and actressy. It’s all about amusing the assembled company by making a fool of yourself and looking increasingly panicked as the minutes tick by. The best players will always be the ones who resort to leaping on and off the furniture while pointing wildly at the most switched on member of their team while everyone shouts ‘WHAT?! WHAT?!’ Watching the news. For some reason Boxing Day is the day you watch the news with utmost reverence and concentration. It’s the knock-on effect from watching the Queen’s speech – when everyone feels a bit like it’s 1939 and we’re all in it together, only with underfloor heating and cashmere. You all gather round and observe the state of the nation while eating chocolate liqueurs, with the volume up to 64, even though there are subtitles.

Going to the pub. The pub has been ruined, everyone is agreed, since the new management turned the snug into a gastro conservatory. But on Boxing Day you must nip to your local, in the hope of finding some community spirit and folk singing shanties, and feeding their ferrets scrumpy.

That’s Boxing Day.

‘The one and only time of the year when you will be required to play either Boggle or Trivial Pursuit or Racing Demon’