CHRISTMAS GAMES yule love

Favourite festive high jinks from the Country Living team

Something beginning with...

Our Christmas tradition is a game we call Town and Country. A player closes their eyes and places their pen on the page of a newspaper to pick a letter. Everyone must then name, for example, an animal, vegetable or native plant species beginning with that chosen letter. The more obscure the answer, the better the score – claiming victory with Hairy Bittercress was my proudest moment. It might sound civilised, but heated debates can ensue – although nothing quite as explosive as the tantrums and the trip to A&E that used to loom when the Monopoly board came out… Ben Kendrick, homes and style director

Between the sheets

My family had their doubts when I suggested incorporating a bed sheet into our annual game of charades. But it turns out that a thin layer of fabric is all it takes to transform a traditional parlour game into a side-splitting spectacle. When it’s your turn, you must drape the sheet over your head so its edges reach your toes. Then, as you act out your designated ‘objects’ – celebrities, film titles, food, songs – the onlookers can sit back in delight, watching you do battle with the bed sheet while you attempt to impersonate figgy pudding, Chris de Burgh or, most memorably in my case, Little Donkey.

Sarah Barratt, senior features writer

If it’s good enough for the Royals...

See The Crown, season 4, for a demonstration of the tongue-twisting game Ibble Dibble. We find it’s best played by the fire after a few of my sister’s cocktails. A cork is scorched on the flames and its blackened end used to mark players’ faces with little dots, called dibble ibbles. A series of tongue twisters ensues. For example: “I’m number four Ibble Dibble with no dibble ibbles calling number five Ibble Dibble with no dibble ibbles”. When the cocktail-plied players inevitably get their lines wrong, they have to place the charred cork on their faces. The key rule is to wash your sooty face before bed to avoid defiling your host’s pillows. Charlie Hedges, picture researcher

Identity crisis

The rules of Who Am I? are simple. One person wears a Post-it Note on their forehead bearing the name of a celebrity or animal, without seeing what it says. They attempt to decipher their identity by asking others a series of yes-or-no questions. We do this throughout the day – while setting the table, over lunch or even on a walk. Scrooge, a Royal or a scandal-ridden MP might make an appearance, alongside a singer only half of us have heard of and a bird that would challenge David Attenborough. The person answering must impersonate the mystery figure.

Laura Silverman, acting executive editor

The joy of wordplay

We love the game Articulate. For the uninitiated, it involves describing as many words as possible to your teammate before a timer runs out. Its chief appeal for us is that it can be played while reclining on the sofa – perfect for the post-christmas dinner slump. Because it involves teams of two, it often takes on a ‘Mr & Mrs’ twist as couples try to prove they’re the best communicators.

Anna Jury, features editor

A picture tells a thousand words

What can you play when your party includes Chinese and Vietnamese students, as well as the usual assembly of children, parents and friends? Hats off to Pictionary, which transcends all barriers. Philippa, 60-plus, Kentish born and bred, had barely sketched a second overlapping triangle when Ling, 25, from northern China, exclaimed triumphantly, “Sydney Opera House!”

Sharon Amos, gardens editor

Connecting the dots

Dominoes is a common obsession in the Caribbean, and one of my most vivid childhood memories is playing it as a family on Christmas Day. A round would often begin before breakfast, tiles slammed down with passion on the table. Later, in the evening, we would watch players on the street under the mango tree still making their moves as they sipped little glasses of rum. A true Caribbean Christmas.

Patricia Taylor, picture director

Channelling Colonel Mustard

We upped the ante last year with real-life Cluedo. Everyone was given secret instructions: a murder weapon (harmless festive object), a victim and a situation in which to commit the crime (touch the victim with the item). From then on, it was a ruthless game of cunning. Trying to lure my mother into a darkened bathroom while holding aloft a piece of turkey, without arousing suspicion, brought a sense of tension to Christmas Day that charades simply could not match.

Cara Laskaris, homes and style assistant

The thought that counts

My grandfather always brings joy to the festive season with his after-dinner bran tub. He chooses small but considered gifts for each member of the family, labelling them with our names. Rather than taking it in turns to scrabble around in a bucketful of bran, we pull out our presents simultaneously. The following half-hour is spent in fraught negotiation as sweets, cracker toys and favours are offered in payment for one another’s presents. Daisy Bendall, acting homes and crafts editor