Christmas Weekend #2

Happy to report all went well.
Saturday night at Melly’s was great fun, excellent egg-nog so hard to resist, sangria, champagne cocktails, Dusty’s gingerbread. The inner man well looked after.
Entertainment provided rated a high mark of appreciation as well, much bowling and tennis on the UII. Tennis I was fine just playing with one hand, but for some reason I couldn’t do the bowling without going down in full bowling stance. Result, sore thigh muscles. At least I can remember why.
And of course there was the company, friendly, warm, comfortable.

Sunday to relax, sleep in, make sure everything is ready for the Big Day. Watched Carols By Candlelight as always. Not quite the same without wrapping lots of presents for the now-grown-up kids, but hey, the dog likes it when I sing along to anything. There’s something reassuring about how predictable it is, yet occasionally it manages to surprise us. The Newton Family all up there singing together kinda got to me, bit of a lump in the throat. So, I’m an old softy? I don’t mind that so much.

Monday and dinner once again at the oldest and dearest’s – oldest friend that is. Again, comfortable, relaxed, happy. Catching up after another year with Claire and her son Nicholas – who's taller (funny how teenagers do that over the course of a year), both of them definitely Good Value. (small in-joke). Time in there too to remember those who aren’t with us any more, there were a few losses this year unfortunately. Best of all with old friends is how much doesn’t need to be said – the shorthand of familiarity I guess. Just alluding to something (like “Good Value”) can trigger off so much, and a look or a quick smile confirms you’re thinking the same thing. Catch-phrases, and funnily enough talked about them with Mel out on the balcony Saturday night. There is nothing like old friends. Nothing. And no better way to spend Christmas.

Tuesday Boxing Day was a wash-out. No point dwelling on it. But friendship meant sticking it out and I fulfilled my obligations.

And that’s the Festive Season over till next year. Don’t even bother to ask me about New Years, doesn’t count for much as far as I’m concerned, just another number. Seen enough of them, won’t see another turn of century and its damned hard to top that, so it’s really just time to buy a new calendar and diary. Oh, and it’s three days off work.

Standing at the bus stop this morning. Middle-aged lady comes up, puts her shopping bag down on the seat, looks around, and asks;
“Is this the bus-stop?”
“Yes.”
Fifteen second pause.
“It’s not the station?”
No, it’s the bus stop.”
Thirty second pause.
“You’re SURE it’s not the station?”
“Yes – the station is up the road where the train goes, this is the bus-stop.”
Lady turns away, muttering, shaking her head. Eats a banana (I’m not kidding) occasionally loking at me and shaking her head. Obviously doesn’t believe me. I feel like reminding her you need train tracks for a train . . . .
The bus comes. She looks relieved, but I get one more scowl from her as she boards the bus.

Christmas Weekend #1

Well, Christmas started this weekend.
Friday was the work Xmas Party. A bit glamourous really, 17th floor of a swish new building in the middle of the city, fancy ballroom, with a pretty amazing terrace with great views. A few hundred of the people from work, some rather more successful than others at trying to look suave and sophisticated, most of them just there to have a good time. Despite my best announced intentions that it was time I misbehaved at the office party, I didn't. Dammit.

Xmas function #2 was today. The family lunch. Not thank goodness the usual full turkey, ham, and plum pudding. BBQ and salads, good wines (can always rely on that at my brother's house) and all the family, with two new additions this year, my nephew from Sydney has moved down with his gorgeous French-Canadian wife. She works in a cheese store, and brought the cheese platter. French cheeses (funny that) - two goats cheese, a a semi-soft and a soft (delicious), a hard goats/sheeps cheese (very subtle, very yum) and a runny cows milk cheese that looked like a brie that had been wrapped in brown cardboard, but tasted like nothing I've ever had, incredibly smooth and creamy, with a slightly sharp edge and a taste that lingered and changed like a good wine. I declared it to be the new love of my life.
Traditionally it has been my task
to make the plum pudding. I got brave this year, and made plum pudding ice-cream instead. Far more sensible in a Melbourne summer. First try, and not entirely successful. It didn't exactly freeze properly, but tasted just like it was meant to, and went like a dream with the selection of berries my sister-in-law provided and the dessert wine my brother chose.
It was a wonderfully relaxed day, my brother unusually in a very chatty mood, the "kids" stealing my cigarettes. Memories of me not smoking in front of my mother when my nephew dragged me out to the back of the garden because he doesn't smoke in front of his father. My great nephew almost in tears because he thought we thought he'd been watching South Park, when we trying to tell him he should be watching it. Nice that my nephews asked me if I was seeing anyone - nice that they don't think I 'm too old for that, and nice that they want me to be seeing someone. Nice that we can all relax, because no-one is torn between seperated parents and getting kids off to their absent parent - that's why we do it the weekend before. No stress. It's OUR day. Nice that we can all talk about all the family that aren't around for Christmas any more, and talk without sadness, just remembering all those other Christmases when the family was bigger, and the kids really were kids, not the grown-ups and parents they are now. Nicest of all that for at least one day a year we can really be a family.

Can't hardly wait



After all, it's only taken 25 years for someone to get around to filming it.
25 years of anticipation . . . . thank god it looks like it just might be worth the wait.

More clips here