Merry Christmas, one and all

Having a good day? I'm not sure whether it's still Christmas Day in New Zealand, but Emma texted to say she'd just done a 15,000 ft. skydive. I'm having a more relaxed day - I've gone back to bed after a fine breakfast and a frenzy of present opening. Rather sadly, I've even read a student's draft essay…

Presents: my New Zealand sister sent me some good lefty polemical journalism (Pilger et al.), and I also received Mary Berry's Baking Bible and a collection of World War 2 propaganda cartoons from my brother and his wife ('he has a wife, you know'). Waiting for me was a parcel from America containing the XKCD book too - wonderful nerd humour. Socks, photo frames, a new dressing gown and other goodies feature heavily too, as do the Morph bookends from my sister Maura. Wonderfully, mother has arranged a subscription to the London Review of Books too. It's more than just book reviews - politics, culture and the strangest lonely hearts column in the world. Maybe I'll send in an entry.

As to presents given: mother like the idea of her two rare variety apple trees (to be delivered when the ground's a bit softer). Dad appreciated a 30 yr old sherry and a fine dessert wine, and I believe the others were pleased with what I gave them. Except for one sister, who now has three copies of the same Wii game… I'll get her something else. She did like the 'Racing Grannies' wind-up toys though. Not sure my grandmothers will!

Oh yes, almost forgot - there's meant to be some kind of spiritual/religious element to this orgy of consumerism. I attended Midnight Mass last night. No, I haven't returned to the fold, but I do appreciate avoiding the arguments which would inevitably follow if I refused. There was some good music, and the priest managed not to say anything reactionary about Palestine. This year.

Culinary experimentation

My continental housemates and neighbours asked me to cook a traditional British Christmas dinner for them yesterday. Although we started with a Polish Borscht with ravioli-like parcels as a donation from some of them, the rest was standard fare. The results were intriguing - everybody liked turkey, some were amazed by sprouts (!), pleased with parsnips, impressed by my cranberry-and-burgundy sauce, and everybody absolutely hated Christmas Pudding, which shocked me to my marrow. 

Then they all trooped off to the West Midlands' worst nightclub, Oceana, while I went to bed, exhausted and old.