Sometimes Christmas can’t be spent with family. That’s where the Salon des Refusés comes to the rescue. Mary Killen on fun and feasting with single friends

Some of the best Christmas experiences I’ve heard of took place every other year in the Old Rectory home of a neighbour of mine in Wiltshire. I apologise in advance for the fact that the main characters involved had plenty of money but as I never tire of pointing out to the chippy, it is own-goaly to be jealous of friends with fabulous houses. If you are a friend it means you can enjoy the facilities too – but without having to pay the bills or deal with all the maintenance issues. However, to get on with my story…

The situation was that Clunky 45 (her nickname) was divorced from Beastie 46 (his nickname). Beastie had moved out of the family home, but they had shared custody of their small children. For the first Christmas, it was decided that Beastie would have the children at his house. Clunky was understandably mournful at the prospect. So poignant to be without her children for the festive season and, moreover, having nothing to do in a big empty house. A period of emotional dankness stretched ahead of her.

But those were the Noughties, the days of verbal data harvesting and, through chatting on landlines, Clunky gleaned the cumulative insight that a good number of her most amusing and loveable friends also had nothing to do at Christmas. No partners, no children, dead parents and nowhere to go. Hence she invented the Christmas Salon des Refusés and invited six singletons to spend Christmas with her and new husband Cuddly (his nickname) at the Old Rectory. They would turn their victim status to their advantage so that smug marrieds would be actually jealous of them.

The selected six who joined Clunky and Cuddly would vary from year to year but, as I recall, a typical bunch would consist of: an 85-year-old chain-smoking estate agent with a wheezy chest and a fabulous repertoire of gossip (as would befit six decades in the house-selling trade); a super elegant human greyhound-like 45-year-old interior decorator with perfect taste who was having an affair with a married man who wouldn’t leave his wife; a 60-year-old Trustafarian who’d spent all his money and now had to live off his wits; a handsome male bloodstock agent of 46 (an “eligible bachelor”); another divorcee whose husband had married his masseuse because his wife was so professionally successful it made him feel small; and a racehorse trainer who was, romantically, between mountees. It was a dog-friendly household and most of the guests brought them along. Total bliss for the canines and humans alike.

Well there was certainly strength in numbers and the groups would apparently laugh from dawn to dusk. Those were the days of heavy drinking. Champagne flowed (much of it contributed by the invitees), good wine was brought up from the cellar and no one had a partner to tell them off or say they’d told a certain anecdote before or that it was time to go home and who was driving – because everyone was sleeping on site like a giant school dormitory. And since there were no children present they could recover from their lunchtime drinking by going to bed for power naps in time for dinner.

Rather than feel sorry for themselves for not having a conventional family to invite them over for Christmas, the Refusés were able to appreciate the freedom of their circumstances, thoroughly enjoying the luxury and informality on offer. The Salons made Christmas so much less stressful, and invitations became highly prized.

Apparently, the saintly Lady Fellowes (wife of Downton’s Julian) once hosted 40 single actors for Christmas. The thespians had the time of their lives – but you don’t need to own a mini stately home or old rectory to arrange your own Salon des Refusés. Go onto the Landmark Trust holiday letting site or the Sykes Cottages site. If you’re in your 50s, eight is an ideal number for a house party. For 20-somethings, perhaps 12 people. You should start putting out feelers from September to see who might be available and prepared to pay towards the rental. Even a group of eight can pay as little as £300 per person for a week of total luxury in an historic house, but you can get much cheaper ones that are still fabulous.

Try to get someone with an army background involved in your house party. They will be organised enough to plan ahead with the food purchasing. I recommend a giant ready-cooked ham – carve slices off it indefinitely and serve with baked potatoes and Cumberland sauce as a core foodstuff. Also, buy bags of Doves Farm organic flour, and someone can be charged with making a daily Grant loaf so that fresh bread can be served each morning. Grant loaves were popular during wartime and are known for their nutty flavour and quick preparation time as they require no kneading. Take 450g of flour, add one teaspoon of salt, one of sugar and one of yeast plus 300ml of water. Mix together, leave for one hour, put in the oven at 220° for 30 minutes. They’re unbelievably good and you’ll never want shop-bought bread again.

As to the recipe for the human cocktail, aspire to have 12 people present – four will drop out as the week approaches (because that’s the way the world works) and you’ll be left with the ideal number of eight. You don’t want to be too bossy or childish, but appoint yourself the lead Refusé and give precise times when meals will be served. Everyone is happier that way. And don’t forget that if you do a big shop from Lidl, you might even save enough money to hire a cook – singleton cooks crave Christmas work.

So, in a nutshell, by spending no more than £600 a head, you can enjoy a week of total luxury and laughter among like-minded friends. The Christmas Salon des Refusés is clearly the way forward.

This article appears in our December 2025 edition, Idler #106 – out now.

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