Of course, Christmas is all about celebrating family. (Unless you happen to be a Christian, in which case it might be about celebrating something else.)
So here I am with Roy, appropriately ensconced in the bosom of our family for the next month and more. We have our own self-contained guest suite – sounds a bit better than granny-flat, doesn’t it? – in the house of son Carl and his wife Carrie in Iluka, 30km north of central Perth, Western Australia.
Exactly two kilometres from us, in Ocean Reef, is the house that our younger daughter Blaire and her fiancé, Colin, have just bought and are in the dusty throes of renovating. (Only elder daughter Wendy who lives in France is missing this year – but she’ll be here for her sister’s wedding in March.)
Christmases Past
During Roy and my nearly 16 years in Singapore, if we found ourselves there on Christmas Day – with or without family – we’d book a table for champagne brunch with friends at the Fullerton Hotel. There’d be nothing to do except turn up and pig out, and it was fabulous.
That said, we’d never dream of going to a hotel for Christmas lunch in the UK, South Africa or Australia. (I’m not certain it’s even allowed in terms of Australian labour law.)
When I was growing up in South Africa, we’d go to my mother’s sister Agnes and our Uncle Brian’s for the day. My younger sister Dale and I would swim in the pool with our various cousins, and Sharon and I would devise “plays” to torture the grownups with later, after lunch.
My gran, my mother, two aunts and several great-aunts would each provide their own specialities – the glazed and cherry-studded gammon, the roast and stuffed turkey, the roast lamb, the potato salad, the coleslaw, the asparagus, the beetroot salad; the Christmas pudding with brandy butter, the strawberry Pavlova, Aunty Ag’s sublime shortbread and mince pies.
As we girls grew up and the mouths multiplied, we’d contribute too – cousin Sharon made her divine ox tongue with mustard sauce, and I’d do all the carving. (As a result, carving became my job forever.)
Full Circle, Down Under
Now, in a completely different part of the world, we’ve come full circle. I have, somehow, become one of the grans (!), and have been tasked with an asparagus and feta platter, plus marinating two butterflied legs of lamb for the barbie.
Also on the menu are Carrie’s prawn skewers, bruschetta from Blaire, her rendition of Colin’s mother’s famously buttery oven-baked potatoes, plus some sort of bombe, Christmas pudding and more. (If that seems to you a tad on the light side, pudding-wise – as it does to me – I have the makings of a Pavlova tucked away in, just in case.)
Some things never change, thank goodness.
