Christmas Pyjamas is definitely a thing. Can't beat going to sleep in a fresh bed and then waking up in brand new clothes. I'm going to inflict it upon DP this year, as his are knackered.
Christmas Eve morning is spent going to the shops first thing to get whatever lump of animal is reduced, lots of veggies and suchlike. We're heading home by 11, just as the rest of the world is just getting into town. We usually get distracted by the pub for an hour, then stick a film on and he starts fannying about and messing up the kitchen, as his Thing is to make cheese straws. They're more like cheese scaffolding poles, but they're hot, cheesy and delivered to the sofa as I'm watching a kids' film whilst the DTwatCats snore around me.
I'd love to go to Mass, but he's the crappest Catholic ever, so there's no way he's going to do that. If there's carol singing somewhere within walking distance, I can usually get him to come along (especially as that means there's a pub on the way back). Or Carols from Kings.
I then have to have his homemade lasagna (I used to do fish, usually Cod or Salmon, with potatoes, loads of dill and suchlike, but he's not keen), more films and then when the booze catches up on me, there will be crashing out just after midnight, ready to start Christmas with a caffeine bomb - strong black coffee, very sweet, with a big slug of whiskey - and him doing a fry up.