Christmas in Howick

It's Christmas day and we're up in Howick which is delightfully cool and damp today – A delight as the Freer's have Yorkshire style cold weather Christmas dinner. You know, the stuff to stuff that'll stick to your ribs (and your waistline) and insulate you against winter's freezy breezes. Yeah just great when it's 35 degrees Celcius in the shade and your eyeballs are gently steaming in the sun. Tradition I guess, imported lock-stock-and-pickle barrel from 'home' to make it seem a little more familiar here in Africa. The whole family gathered with the exception of Paddy who is up in Malawi with GF's family (“He's gone. Stapled, sealed, nailed to the floor,” as George said with a sad roll of eyes when he heard this. Grin. She climbs and reads. And doesn't do the clothes and shoe-shopping bit. When I found a lass like that I didn't even let being taken to the farm and meeting 50 (and I mean 50) rellies put me off.) As usual Carl and I cooked, but KC did a little 7 litre trifle and B made brandy butter. Bad puns, good wine, too much hot rich food...

I swear next year we'll breaak from tradition and do warm-weather food. But as it probably won't be the mob we'll probably do tradition yet again for the same reasons it got imported to Africa. It's a time that we become aware of family and place.

Mind you -- I draw the line at boxing day slices of Christmas pudding , dusted liberally with sugar and fried in butter for breakfast – unless we have snow on Flinders.