The DECEMBER Report
A cosy, honest December REPORT on comfort, community, and closing out the year
There is something about the final days of December that makes everything feel louder. The wins, the gaps, the things we loved, the things we thought we would have done by now. Time feels elastic, routines loosen, and suddenly even the smallest habits start to feel like personality traits.
This is my December Report. A soft, slightly chaotic end of year round up of the things that carried me through the month and, in many ways, the year. The books that kept me company, the food that became a comfort, the shows that played in the background while life happened, the people who made everything feel steadier.
READING
At the time of writing this it is the 27th of December, which means I am two books away from my Goodreads goal and quietly negotiating with myself about whether this is a personal failing or simply a very normal end of year wobble. There is a faint cloud hovering over my head, whispering that I should read two books in five days, as if reading were a punishment to be endured rather than the thing I have loved most this year.
I am not a failure. I read 26 books, for crying out loud. Only two friends even know what my goal was and I read some genuinely brilliant things. And yet here I am, slightly stressed, as if Goodreads is going to knock on my door and repossess my library card. So, in the spirit of being kind to myself, let’s wrap up my December reads.
The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom
This was a birthday present, a slightly late one, from a friend whose taste in books I trust more than my own. Some of my favourite reads of all time have come from her picks in our very serious three person book club, so I went in hopeful and slightly smug about how much I was probably going to enjoy it.
The story follows Eddie, a wounded war veteran who believes he has lived an unremarkable life. He spends his days fixing rides at a seaside amusement park, quietly disappointed by how small his life feels. On his 83rd birthday he dies in a tragic accident while trying to save a little girl. Instead of arriving at some pearly gated destination, Eddie wakes up in an afterlife where his life is explained to him by five people. Some he loved, some he barely noticed, some he may never have realised mattered at all. Through them, the meaning of his supposedly insignificant life is gently and devastatingly revealed.
It sounds heavy, I know, but this book is only 200 pages and it is pure, tender joy. I could not put it down. It is the kind of book that quietly slips lessons into your pocket without you noticing. I finished it feeling calmer, kinder, and more aware of the invisible threads connecting us all. I genuinely think everyone should read this book once in their life, especially when you feel lost, sad, or like you are behind in some imaginary race you never signed up for. 5 stars
Holiday Ever After by Hannah Grace
This book is essentially a Hallmark Christmas film in paperback form and I mean that as the highest compliment. I bloody love a big ensemble cast and this one delivered festive chaos in spades.
Clara Davenport is desperate to climb the ladder at her family’s toy company. Everything is going perfectly until the company is accused of stealing a doll design from an independent toy maker, triggering a PR nightmare. With a promotion dangled in front of her like a glittery Christmas bauble, Clara is sent to a small town to charm the locals and fix the mess.
Enter Jack Kelly, who would happily never hear the name Davenport again. After being burned by the company once before, he is not interested in Clara’s apologies or her carefully curated smiles. What follows is small town tension, festive feelings, and the slow realisation that people are rarely as simple as we want them to be.
What really got me about this book, though, was the sense of community. Warm, nosy, dependable community. The kind where people show up for each other without needing a calendar invite. I have been craving that feeling for a long time, a place you can lightly belong to without having to fully reinvent yourself. I have never been religious and church has never quite been my thing, but I understand the pull of having somewhere to go, somewhere you are known.
Ironically, I come from a town exactly like this. The kind where everyone went to school together and their parents did too. The kind of place you never leave. I always thought it sounded like hell. This book made me pause and think that maybe it is not all bad. Maybe knowing people, and being known, is not the worst thing in the world.
It is Christmas, it is community, it is feel good romance. I want Clara’s heart of gold and I desperately wish Fraser Falls were a real place I could visit just once, preferably with snow falling and a hot chocolate in hand.
EATING
I am aware that what I am about to say makes me sound like the most insufferable London cliché imaginable, the kind of person who says “this area has really changed” while holding an oat milk flat white. But Gail’s mince pie is the only thing that has got me through December. Emotionally, spiritually, financially. Mostly financially, in a bad way.
For non London people, Gail’s is, on paper, a bakery. In reality, it is an East London lifestyle choice. Imagine a normal bakery, then imagine it has been to therapy, does Pilates twice a week, and refers to its parents by their first names. You do not pop into Gail’s. You drift in, wearing a trench coat you cannot really afford, clutching a tote bag with something vaguely political or about olive oil on it, and gently bracing yourself to spend £7.40 on something that looks like it should cost £2.50.
I should say, I am usually a big supporter of local and small. I am also a hater by nature. I want to roll my eyes at chains with exposed brick and very good fonts. But a friend at work casually mentioned how good the mince pies were, in the way people do when they unknowingly alter the course of your month. I was curious. I gave in. And now here I am, fully addicted, emotionally reliant, and wondering where all my house deposit ISA money has gone.
PLAYING
Is this a safe place to admit this? Netflix UK has announced it is removing Friends on the 31st of December and I am already grieving 2026 in advance. I fall asleep to sitcoms every single night. They are my emotional white noise. What am I meant to do without Friends murmuring gently in the background while I overthink my entire life?
I cannot pretend I have been a model viewer this month. I have spent December doing what can only be described as an endurance sport of Christmas films. If there was a festive trope, I watched it. Small towns, fake snow, men learning to feel again. You can read about my favourites elsewhere, but trust me, I have put the hours in.
That said, something has shifted. I used to pride myself on watching everything. I knew the Oscar buzz before it became Oscar buzz. I was insufferable at dinner parties. Somewhere along the way, I became a person who rewatched the same things for comfort instead of curiosity.
So I am making a public declaration. 2026 is the year of watching. Proper watching. I am starting a one person film and TV club. I have a list of 50 films I need to see. There are series I am committing to, not just half watching while scrolling. I want to pay attention again.
So prepare yourselves. The 2026 REPORTs are coming and you will be fed.
OBSESSED
I am obsessed with my friends. Genuinely, embarrassingly obsessed.
I said goodbye to my job of four years this week and it was far more emotional than I expected. The kind of goodbye that sneaks up on you and leaves you crying in places you did not plan to cry. But the strangest, loveliest part is that it does not really feel like goodbye at all. So many of the people I met at work have crossed the invisible line from colleagues to something much deeper.
These are not work pals. These are friends for life. The kind of people I could text at any hour and know, without question, that they have my back.
I feel incredibly lucky. I think about Rachel Green saying “I have my girls” and it still hits me every time. For most of my teenage years, I just wanted one friend. One person. And now I look around and realise I have so many girls it almost makes me laugh. I catch myself smiling just thinking about them.
I am obsessed. I will cheer about them forever.
REFLECTING
I think December asks a lot of us. It encourages reflection in a way that can very quickly tip into self criticism, especially when it comes to goals. I always fall into the same trap of looking back at the year and thinking, wow, I didn’t do XYZ, and then responding by writing an intense, borderline militaristic list for the following year, as if I can strong arm life into behaving.
But this year feels different. This year I went through a lot, both health wise and work wise, in ways I could never have predicted or planned for. That feels important to remember when staring down a list of unmet goals. There is no point being disappointed in myself for not following a version of 2025 that never actually existed. You cannot plan your way out of being human.
I am trying to be kinder in how I think about New Year goal planning. Less punishment, more curiosity. Less fixing myself, more asking what actually supported me when things were hard. Goals, when they are kind, should feel like a hand on your back, not a finger in your face.
I am so proud of myself for creating this. This little corner of the internet. What a community it has become. What a genuinely lovely place to land. I have big plans for 2026 and for The 25 Reset, ideas that excite me and make me want to show up. But even if we stayed exactly as we are, I would still be happy. And I think that might be the kindest goal of all.
TREATING
I am ending 2025 not looking like anything I did for most of it and that feels intentional. I have officially decided I am glowing up. I am closing out the year by dipping into my savings and emerging into 2026 looking like a catfish. A carefully curated, softly filtered catfish.
We are talking laminated eyebrows and permed eyelashes. We are getting a haircut using the exact same Pinterest photo I always bring, despite the overwhelming evidence that it has never once turned out how I imagine. Fresh nails are happening too, obviously. I want to be high maintenance in a way that eventually becomes low effort. The dream.
This all begins on the 30th of December, which feels dramatic and correct. For the first time, I understand those influencers who do this weekly instead of hoarding self care all year like it is a rare resource. I get it now.
Will it change my life? Probably not. Will it fix everything? Absolutely not. But if it gives me even a small confidence boost during January, a month that steals my joy on sight, then it is money well spent.
And that is my December Report. A small snapshot of what the end of this year looked and felt like from where I was standing.
As 2025 comes to a close, I feel mostly grateful. Grateful for the routines that quietly held me together, for the people who made hard weeks easier, and for the fact that I kept showing up here, even when life felt messy or uncertain.
Thank you, genuinely, for reading this year. For clicking, sharing, replying, and keeping me company on the other side of the screen. This little corner of the internet has grown into something that means more to me than I ever expected, and that is because of you.
I am heading into 2026 with curiosity rather than pressure, excitement rather than expectation. There are plans, of course, and ideas, and hope. But there is also comfort in knowing that we do not have to have it all figured out yet.
Here is to another year of noticing the small things, romanticising the ordinary, and writing reports that feel more like a catch up than a checklist. I am very glad you are here.
About Twenty Five Reset
The 25 Reset: A home for eldest daughters with a quarter-life crisis, part public diary, part pop culture chat. Expect lessons from turning 25, reflections on growing up online, and discussions on books, TV, films and everything in between.
Notes From the Middle of Things - Everything I’ve Learnt from my Quarter Life Crisis
Dear Diary - My public diary that maybe shouldn’t be public
Pop Culture - and a lot of chats about 2000 - 2020 TV Shows
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Reading this felt like a warm hug. I especially love this sentence: "Goals, when they are kind, should feel like a hand on your back, not a finger in your face." I will be thinking of this when I start planning my year ahead.
the gail’s mince pie is everything!!!!