Alternative advent calendars: 12 ideas that aren't chocolate

If you've already decided against another box of chocolate, here are twelve things people actually put behind the doors — and the one question that decides which of them is right.

Most advent calendars are a delivery mechanism for twenty-four small objects. That is a perfectly good thing to be, and it is also why so many of them are forgotten by February. The alternatives below aren’t alternatives because they’re unusual for the sake of it. They’re alternatives because they answer a different question: not what do I give them twenty-four of, but what do I want them to feel on twenty-four consecutive mornings.

The one question worth answering first

Is this calendar about the days or about the person? A calendar about the days is a seasonal pleasure — something nice each morning, a shared ritual, a countdown. A calendar about the person is a much bigger swing: every door has to be true of them specifically, and when it works they keep it. Both are worth doing. Deciding which one you’re making, before you buy or build anything, saves the calendar that ends up as neither.

Calendars of words

1. Twenty-four reasons. One specific thing you love about them behind each door. This is the version people cry at, and the reason is specificity: “you’re thoughtful” is a card, “you always text me when you get home even though you think it’s daft” is a calendar. It asks nothing but attention, and it is harder than it sounds — most people get to six and stall.

2. Twenty-four memories. The same shape, pointed backwards: one thing you did together, in no particular order, from the enormous to the completely trivial. The trivial ones land harder, which surprises everybody.

3. A letter a day for someone far away. For a partner on deployment, a child at university, a parent in another country. Twenty-four short notes, written now, opened one a day. It is the only idea on this list that solves a problem rather than adding a pleasure.

4. Twenty-four things you’ve never said out loud. The braver version of the first one. Not confessions — the ordinary things that never found a moment, which is most of what anybody actually wants to hear.

Calendars of experiences

5. Twenty-four plans. Each door is something you’ll do together, dated or not: a walk, a film, a proper trip in spring. Weight it heavily towards the small ones. Twenty-four grand gestures is a to-do list, and a to-do list in December is a punishment.

6. An activity a day. The family version: make paper chains, watch the one film, drive to see the lights, write the cards together. Best for households with children, and the only one on this list that genuinely gets easier the more people are involved.

7. Twenty-four small rituals. The good coffee, a bath, an early night, their programme with nobody talking over it. Things they would never buy themselves because they feel like a fuss. This works particularly well for someone who is run ragged and would tell you they don’t want anything.

Calendars of objects, done properly

8. A book a day. Twenty-four wrapped books, one each evening. For children it’s a bedtime routine that runs itself; a lot of people rewrap the same set every year, which is the whole point.

9. One thing they’re properly into. Tea, hot sauce, yarn, records, model paint, stationery. The trick is that it should be a subject they could talk about for an hour, not a category they merely like. Specific beats luxurious.

10. A photograph a day. Twenty-four pictures from the last twelve months in order, each with a line about what was happening. It doubles as a record of the year, and it is the one that grandparents keep on the fridge until it falls apart.

Calendars that give something away

11. A reverse advent calendar. Rather than taking something out each day, you put something in — a tin, a packet, a jar — and the full box goes to a food bank at the end of the month. Check what your local one actually needs before you start; most publish a list, and it is rarely what people assume. If you want one idea off this page that costs nothing and helps somebody, it is this one.

12. A kindness calendar. The children’s version: one small thing a day for somebody else. Ring a relative, let your brother choose, take something next door. It is the only advent calendar that gets harder as the month goes on, which is a feature.

What goes wrong

Three things, and they’re always the same three. Twenty-four of something nobody wanted twenty-four of — the count has to be a gift, not an obligation to consume. Starting on 30 November, which is how you end up with twelve good doors and twelve that say “you’re so kind”. And a calendar that is secretly for the person giving it, which everybody can tell and nobody says.

When to start

The deadline is the evening of 30 November — day one has to be ready before they open their eyes on the 1st. Work backwards from there. Anything posted needs a week of slack in December. Anything handmade needs a fortnight, because you will be doing it in the evenings. Anything you have to write needs the most time of all, and not because writing is slow: it’s because the good ones arrive on the second and third sitting, days apart, usually while you’re doing something else.

If the one you want is made of words

That’s what we built Little Reasons for, and it exists because the first idea on this list is the best one and also the hardest. You answer a few questions about them, add some photographs, and we turn it into a digital advent calendar of twenty-four reasons — one door opening each morning from 1 December to Christmas Eve, on a page that stays theirs, with an email each day to tell them it’s there. You read all twenty-four and change anything you like before they see a word of it.

And if you’d rather write your own from scratch, the twelve prompts in our guide to partner advent calendars are the part that gets people past door six.

Common questions