Christmas in London
Well, this is an unexpected turn of events
I wrote a story many Christmases ago about the importance of family traditions a this time of year. You can read it here, I think you’ll like it — it has been very well recieved:
Whenever I think of the story I go back to a grey day, snow threatening, but never quite managing, to fall outside, and a warm kitchen with smells of fat and spices. A fire quietly flickering in the grate, the house almost empty, anticipating the return of houseguests from an adventure, and an influx for celebration in a few days time.
Days that were lost to us when we moved back to Australia, where Christmas is a completely different beast. Christmas Eve 2019 saw me blasting across Sydney Harbour in my boat with my kids, a couple of their school friends — twins — and their mother, for a swim in Chowder Bay, while bushfires surrounded the city.
The school friends weren’t meant to be there. They had been on holidays down the South Coast but, as their father had said to me the day before, “The fires were still several kilometres away, but there was only…
