As an Aussie, I have fond memories of baking hot christmas days – swimming in our family pool, riding my bike in the sunshine and playing football with my brother and mates.
Sadly, I also have memories of “traditional” christmas dinners – hot roast ham, chicken, vegetables, gravy and my mother’s home made christmas pudding – though we were at least spared from having to get dressed up like turkeys to eat it.
We also used to send and receive christmas cards with winter scenes on them – really bizarre in temperatures of 35 degrees celsius to receive a card with a snowman on it from your neighbour.
Why did my mother do it? I think she felt that it just wouldn’t be a proper christmas if she didn’t. By proper, she meant English – even though she had never been here. So despite the heat and humidity, a traditional English christmas it was – every bloody year.
So I love christmas in London. It brings back memories of what my mother used to try and give us every year – except this time around, it IS the “proper” christmas.