Linen, stoneware and a little beautiful imperfection

I'd begin with a natural linen runner rather than a full tablecloth. A glimpse of wood makes everything feel less formal, and a subtle stripe, like the Solino Home Amalfi runner, gives the table a quiet sense of structure. It's the sort of fabric that looks better when it isn't ironed within an inch of its life.

At each place, a woven water-hyacinth mat brings softness underneath cream-coloured Mikasa Cranborne stoneware. I like plates that have a little texture and warmth to them, rather than anything too white or shiny. They're a much kinder backdrop for food, too.

For glassware, I'd mix the fluted Luigi Bormioli Optica wine glasses with the more casual ribbed Bormioli Rocco Line tumblers. A lovely bit of Italian craftsmanship that you can use on an ordinary Tuesday, not just Christmas Day.

Give every place its own little moment

This is where I think a table starts to feel thoughtful rather than decorated. A forest-green linen napkin through a plain wooden ring, a sprig of rosemary and a small card with somebody's name on it. Nothing difficult, nothing costly, but a detail that makes a guest feel expected.

I've picked out LinenMe Emilia napkins, simple wooden napkin rings and little gold knot-style card holders. They work together because they don't all demand attention. One soft, one natural, one with a hint of shine.

Botanical Morris & Co. crackers would be the Christmas flourish. I'd place them alongside the plates rather than pile on more ornaments. A cracker is rather useful here: decorative before lunch, mildly chaotic halfway through it.

A bowl of winter fruit, olive branches and burgundy candlelight

I like a centrepiece that could almost have come from the kitchen. A generous bowl of clementines, dark figs and pomegranates brings real colour to the table. A few branches of olive or rosemary around it, and you've got all the festive texture you need.

The beige pedestal fruit bowl gives the arrangement a little height, while a simple white ceramic jug with olive branches provides something looser and more sculptural. Both make sense after Christmas, too. In spring the bowl could hold lemons; in summer the jug might carry garden flowers.

I'd introduce deep wine-red taper candles in understated gold holders. That little flash of burgundy against green and cream feels properly Christmassy, but without asking the rest of the table to join in. If you prefer chunkier pillar candles, the distressed white wooden holders give the room a softer farmhouse note. Use unscented candles near food and keep flames away from greenery, napkins and crackers. For the beautiful fig-scented candle, the sideboard is a much better home.

Serving dishes worth bringing to the table

For me, a table always looks its best when food arrives. A great big platter of roasted vegetables has more presence than a dozen decorations, especially when it's finished with herbs, citrus and a scattering of pomegranate seeds.

The Mikasa Cranborne oval platter would be the centre of that scene. I love the idea of roast carrots with whipped feta, or warm winter vegetables glossed with good olive oil and finished with toasted pistachios. These aren't prescriptive menu choices, just a starting point for food that looks irresistible passed around the table.

Alongside it, the softly glazed Richmount Ocean serving platters leave space for the vegetables, dips and little extras that tend to appear once everyone has sat down. I also love the speckled vancasso BONBON plates as a more rustic alternative to cream stoneware. An olive-wood board could hold figs, cheese and nuts; terracotta tapas bowls would be perfect for olives and almonds. Add olive-wood servers for a generous leafy salad, and the whole table begins to feel like lunch in an Italian family home.

For something a little more spontaneous, my Mediterranean lunch ideas from what's in the fridge are built around the same principle: lovely ingredients, a good dressing and very little ceremony.

The part of Christmas that happens around the table

Not everything needs to live on the table itself. I love the idea of a nearby sideboard with olive branches in a jug, a few spare glasses, a bowl of figs and a gently flickering fig-scented candle. It makes the whole room feel considered, without taking up the space meant for lunch.

A little extra linen, perhaps a wooden board waiting for cheese, a small stack of botanical crackers. It's not a display to admire from a distance. It's a room preparing for company.