So, 4 PM. 5 PM. 6 PM worst-case. Write that on a sticky note and put it on your kettle. The real gift of knowing the time isn’t about cramming in more shopping—it’s about finishing. It’s about pulling on your woolly socks, pouring a glass of something fizzy, and acknowledging that the cranberry sauce from last year is fine.
Because in the end, the best thing you’ll find at Tesco on Christmas Eve is the moment you walk out the door, bag in hand, and into the quiet dark of a December evening. That’s the one thing no opening hours can sell you: the permission to stop. And that, dear reader, is the most delicious morsel of all.
