Christmas in the bubble, like so much else here, seems defined by that unique brand of eccentric escapism that’s hard to deny. Watching the light from a winter sunrise filter through the library window from underneath a pile of books on ‘legal moralism’ makes life seem bad. Mince pies make it seem good.

In fact, given a little thought, Christmas and Cambridge are made for each other. We’re overworked, overstressed and constantly bombarded with warnings of an uncertain future. What better way to fight it all then to deck the halls with cheap garish tinsel, start a premature November advent calendar and generally regress to an age when Christmas was the highlight of the year and not just an excuse for John Lewis’ latest ad campaign? And, like rediscovering Disney films after a ten-year break, Christmas spirit is all the sweeter the second time around. There’s a certain incomparable sense of satisfaction in finding that Poundland do in fact sell Christmas trees or unintentionally stumbling across the perfect Secret Santa present for someone on your staircase.

Sure it’s always going to be over-commercialised, and not all of us are hugely keen on the birth of Christ or the winter solstice. But reducing Christmas into either of those things misses the point. It’s a time where it’s okay to be irrationally happy. It’s a time where it’s possible to watch Love Actually without obligatorily subscribing to Will Self’s view that its ‘the most grotesque and sick manipulation of an audience’s feelings since Riefenstahl’s The Triumph of the Will’. And I challenge you to not be stirred by the powerhouse performances of both Kermit and Caine in the iconic ‘ Muppet’s Christmas Carol’.

Most importantly it’s a time to indulge, to be excited about things, to enjoy eating and drinking and getting and giving. And to cast off that veil of intellectual cynicism that prevails here for so much of the time. So, if you’re with me, here are my recommendations for celebrating a premature Cambridge Christmas.

Music

If you can’t quite hack Slade, and you’re preserving the purity of Fairytale of New York by saving it until December, I’d second Laurie Tuffrey’s recommendation of Sufjan Stevens’ ‘Songs for Christmas’. Originally a series of gifts for his friends and family, this five-disk epic will dispel any presumptions you might have that Christmas music is confined to bland pop. New takes on old hymns rub shoulders with Stevens’ own mellow folk creations. It’s hard to describe the pure eclectic brilliance of an album in which you can find both a 15th century German Carol and a track entitled ‘Come on! Let’s Boogey To The Elf Dance’.

Food & Drink

Christmas Formal’s still a while away and apparently the Mahal just don’t do turkey korma. Where do you turn? The morbidly tempting Wetherspoon’s Christmas Dinner. You may eye it with the same disdain as Sainsbury’s 9p Basic’s Curry Sauce, but when it comes down to it, it’s a lot less hassle than attempting to cook your own. What else can be better than sitting with good company, ladling gravy onto a turkey of questionable origin while sampling the alliterative delights of Kopparberg’s Cranberry and Cinnamon Christmas cider?

Film

For a Christmas film it’s brimming with dark and vaguely sinister undertones but the ultimately harmless Nightmare before Christmas is one not easily beat. Considering we’re about halfway between Halloween and Christmas this is arguably the most appropriate way to see in the festive season. For those who missed out when they were young, Tim Burton’s gothic masterpiece tells the story of Jack Skellington, the tortured hero of Halloween Town who’s desire to improve himself leads to an attempt to take over Christmas. The perfect film for anyone who’s Christmas isn’t complete without a misfit anti-hero, megalomaniac villain and a healthy dose of stop-motion animation. And the songs are pretty catchy too.

Gifts

Secret Santa can be a double-edged sword. Every year you run the gauntlet of being left with a quirky ‘pop-lit’ Waterstone’s book that’s essentially going to occupy valuable space for as many years as you let it. Solve the problem with a £5 limit and charity-shop only restriction to encourage some real creativity. That or forgo the process and convince everyone in your house or staircase to spend the same money on some alcohol and food for a night that will be far more enjoyable than a cheap gift. Memories might not be as long-lasting though.