Christmas markets are the new spa break, it seems. Once upon a time, you had to venture to Salzburg or Vienna for a cup of warming Gluhwein, handmade wooden nativity carvings and little glass decorations sold from fairylight-festooned chalets in a market square. It was such a magical experience, that we Brits imported and have established our own, equally magical Christmas markets in equally beautiful settings, encircling ancient cathedrals or nestling in medieval town squares, of which Britain has plenty. Entire mini breaks now centre round a trip to one of the winter markets, which often come complete with ice rinks and Santa grottos.
My boyfriend and I decided to ditch our four sons, because, magical as the markets might appear, they are largely shopping opportunities and we wanted to do some serious Christmas browsing without being hindered by moans of “I’m bored, can we go?”.
Promising gifts on our return, we released the MaxiCosi child seats from their Isofix moorings, ejected the buggy from the boot, and loaded up the Honda CR-V with no more than a little overnight bag, which looked ridiculous in such a huge loadspace, but which was a wonderful sight for two stressed parents. AC/DC blasting from the iPhone via the USB port in the central compartment, we headed to Winchester for the weekend, which boasts a picturesque Christmas market hugging its enormous cathedral.
There’s nothing like a warm, comfy, quiet SUV for tackling an icy, storm-beaten, windswept journey down to Hampshire. I nodded off in the passenger seat as soon as we hit the M3, lulled asleep by the cosseting leather, the heated seat, the sound-proofing against tyre and wind noise, the supple suspension… and sheer exhaustion from my two-year-old’s 5.24am start to the day.
I awoke to an extraordinary crosswind from a railway crossing battering the CR-V and rain lashing the windscreen. But an SUV is the pick of vehicles to make you feel extraordinarily protected in rubbish winter weather. We simply shrugged, turned up the music and pinched the touchscreen satnav image to zoom in on Winchester town centre. I’ve been a motoring journalist for 10 years and this is the most intuitive satnav system I’ve used yet, with features such as muted voice guidance just a simple speaker icon on the screen – I’ve hunted for hours in the past through settings to find it on different systems.
Winchester’s winter market does not disappoint, from its Victorian-esque food stalls serving mulled wine, roast chestnuts and churros at the front of the cathedral, to a huge ice rink and more craft stalls round the back. There’s a handmade crafts section selling wreaths, wooden toy soliders, knitted hats, stained-glass etchings, and leather belts. Walk through the floodlit cloisters, under the flying buttresses and more clusters of chalets offer frosted gingerbread houses, tweed scarves and flatcaps, spiced incense and cinnamon soaps, and huge illuminated stars for the garden. One chalet had a one-horned stuffed reindeer outside it for reasons that weren’t clear, but it seemed entirely in keeping with the festive spirit.
Fortified by mulled wine against the howling wind, my boyfriend and I donned our bobbled hats and shopped, gazed and ambled through the market, wandering happily amongst the rosy-cheeked crowds. It was a magical start to Christmas.
Back at the car, arms full of wreaths and toys, I muttered silent thanks for the technological advances that have brought us keyless entry and electronic tailgates. Everything opened without a single purchase dropped, and we piled a slightly embarrassing number of bags into the boot. I had somehow managed to convince my boyfriend to buy a ridiculously expensive Christmas wreath for the front door, promising him that it would be a reminder for years to come of our little trip to Winchester.
Off we set, thankful for the flappy-paddle, steering-wheel mounted gearlevers to kick the automatic transmission down a cog and punt us past the interminable queue of lorries heading to London. Back at home, amid the boys clamouring for their presents, I realised the expensive wreath was made with real foliage, and will need replacing each year. Hey ho, we’ll simply have to go back next Christmas….
