That inevitable time of year that I've had mixed feelings about ever since the year the gravy boat broke mid-pour and deposited gravy all over the table and with it a substantial amount of stress.
Some of my favourite Christmases have been the simplest ones. The one in America when I was 5 and we got a plastic tree for the hotel room and quite possibly ate at red-lobster (I recently discovered that I'm possibly the only person in MA ever to have seen, let alone eaten at, a red lobster. Although I doubt I was allowed lobster.). The one where everyone got snowed in so it was just my immediate family and an oversized turkey. The one where we cooked chinese food instead (although I'm not sure that ever happened - I think I just wanted it to happen). My Mum went mental for Christmas. She used to have our next-door-neighbour write the Santa letters with her left hand, just in case we were smart enough to recognise our neighbour's handwriting. She also once tramped sooty boots all through the house at an attempt at Santa authenticity. And we got a photo of rudolph (taken I think at the natural history museum in DC which they'd visited that year.)
This year Christmas will be spent with Jeremy's extended family. There will be no crackers (no not those sorts of crackers), mince-pies or Christmas pudding and there will probably be salad served with a roast dinner (this isn't a bad thing btw, it's just weird for English people).
It's strange, contemplating a time so rich with tradition and all my traditions are 3000 miles away. I don't mind, mostly because I'm going home on the 27th and will insist on having crackers with every meal and will most likely eat my weight in mince-pies (I attempted to make them but the only mince-meat I could buy here tastes faintly of soap). But without my sister bouncing off the walls with excitement and waking me up about 5 hours too early and my Mum camped out behind the sofa wrapping top-secret presents, it just doesn't quite feel like Christmas. But maybe that's just being an adult...maybe Christmas wont be Christmas again until I have children to lie to...
...In which case Christmas can wait a few more years.
My dad makes a mean mince-meat pie (and meat stuffing, which I actually prefer). I think it's a French/Canadian thing too. Not sure if it's the same, but it is de-li-cious and we only get it on Thanksgiving & Christmas. Mm mm...
ReplyDelete