I must say, Christmas time in London Town is something entirely different to what I have grown up with. I think it is safe to say that the English population Genuinely. Love. Christmas. LOVE Christmas. And not in a I-hope-I-get-lots-of-presents-this-year way. It is moreso a let's-all-gather-round-the-chimney-and-wait-for-Santa-to-slide-down-because-magic-really-does-happen-on-Christmas-Day experience. The lights are shining, the Christmas jumpers have been dug out from the cupboard, the mulled wine is warming and the food is endless. REAL Christmas trees are carried over shoulders of new owners having spent long and hard deciding on which one is juuust right. People can ice-skate OUTSIDE at Winter Wonderland, the Natural History Museum or perhaps the local pub (I kid you not).
My lacking knowledge of Christmas in the traditional sense has been shown up big time in the last few weeks. My flatmates nearly fell of their chairs when listening to me describe a usual Christmas Day with the family - unwrapping presents, going to the beach, enjoying a selection of salads and fresh fruit for lunch and perhaps simply some gingerbread for dessert later that evening. "SALADS?!" cried Dan, possibly one of the biggest Christmas advocates I have come across so far. "SALADS?!!!" Even though both boys agreed that they would not necessarily enjoy sitting down to a full roast in temperatures exceeding 30 degrees, they still declared that it's "just wrong."
I have been fortunate enough to already experience what a true Christmas Day "should" be like, as the boys enjoy hosting a large Christmas lunch for their close friends each year. Preparation was stressful enough as I was assigned to look after dessert. After hours of researching and trouling the internet for ideas, I proudly told the boys that I would be making a Christmas pavlova. "Great, that will be a good light option to go with the others," said Dan. Light option?! Others?! It was then that I learned all about the CHRISTMAS PUDDING, a dessert that nobody particularly likes to eat but must be included in any Christmas event. Fortunately I had already missed the boat in making one myself so was given permission to purchase one, but still had to be talked through the warming and lighting of the brandy to pour over the top in a spectacular manner at the dinner table. Whoever came up with this dangerous tradition obviously wasn't as clumsy or fan of red wine as I am.
I am pleased to enlighten you all that, at least in the case of the Clapham Flat, a traditional Christmas Day schedule goes along the lines of:
- 9am - wake up. Start contemplating the tasks ahead as you stretch out in bed and tell yourself that another 5min can't hurt.
- 9:30am - get up. Realise the extent of how much tidying and preparation is actually involved and regret the last thirty minutes you spent lying in bed.
- 9:45am - actually start tidying and preparing the place, trying to squeeze 17 chairs around two tables and wishing that all your guests had eating disorders so you had some hope of fitting them all in.
- 10:30am - finish off the shopping list which has now exceeded one A4 page.
- 11:00am - head to the supermarket now it has opened to make the first of many trips. At least two trolleys should be filled with alcohol. Any alcohol.
- 12:30pm - guests were told to start arriving half an hour ago and you've only just got back with all of the groceries. There are now three animals in the fridge and at least four bags worth of vegetables to be peeled. Showers have yet to be had and guests are starting to arrive.
- 1:30pm - breakfast comprising of chocolate croissants is served along with alcohol. All seems right with the world again.
- 2:00pm - chef is looking cool and calm in the kitchen.
- 4:00pm - chef is looking hot and stressed in the kitchen.
- 4:45pm - entrees are served. Smoked salmon, prawns, cream cheese with lemon and chilli, rocket.
- 5:30pm - mains are served. Includes roast turkey, lamb and beef, roast vegetables, brussel sprouts, cabbage, mashed potato, yorkshire puddings, pigs in blankets, gravy. Plus a couple of centimetres to your waistline.
- 5:45pm - Emma completes her main meal only to realise that it's her turn to deliver the goods.
- 5:50pm - Emma scolds Dan for leaving the mess in such a state. Decide bath towels rather than tea towels will be better to dry up with in this situation. Am helped by angels of girls with clean up.
- 7:00pm - Dessert is served after copious amounts of alcohol is consumed by Emma. Pavs are out. Pudding is lit. Flat is still standing.
- 8:00pm - Singing
- 8:30pm - Drinking games
- 9:00pm - Clothes start to come off.
- 10:00pm - Guitar is brought out.
- 10:30pm - Whisky is brought out.
- Being woken up at 7am by alarm clock to get to work on time - death.
The actual Big Christmas Day will be spent on the skiing fields in France with a big bunch of Aussies which should be amazing. Having never skied before, the next blog post should be highly entertaining.
Though this one cannot be left without a big mention. Megan, my best friend over here, is sadly leaving the UK on Monday to make her final voyage back home. It's easy to forget how quickly two years can pass and that eventually all of us will have to make that same trek! Kiddo - thanks for everything xxxxx
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