Tim Cleary, from Stanfords in Covent Garden, reminisces on – and looks forward to – the traditional British Christmas. Log fires, cosy pubs and big family dinners are worth travelling back home for – however hectic the journey, he says…
The journey home
I've never had the chance to spend Christmas away from home, but I've often had to travel on Christmas Eve to get back in time for what is to follow.
One year involved waking up in Le Puy-en-Velay in central France at 7am, taking three trains across France to get to Paris, and then jumping on the Eurostar to reach London, before catching a heaving train from Waterloo back to my home town in Hampshire. Although I arrived late in the evening feeling very tired, I was sure that I had seen some wonderful things: the beautiful rural landscapes of France's Massif Central, a Christmas Market in Lyon, and people in Paris and London rushing about, bags and suitcases in tow, trying desperately not to miss the last train home.
Other years have been less inspiring: a National Express journey between Leeds and London, followed by a coach from Victoria to Hampshire was probably the worst.
A merry Christmas Eve
What I return to is a ritual as much as tradition. Christmas Eve is spent at the warm and cosy Anchor pub, catching up with old friends in front of an open log fire. Ales are drunk, darts are thrown and the jukebox in the corner has a backlog of dozens of songs, from Slade's 'I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day' to Wham's 'Last Christmas' and 'Fairytale In New York' by the Pogues. A warm feeling permeates the pub, people get merry and then we stumble home on a cold winter's night. Sometimes I even bump into my mother and our neighbours who are returning from midnight mass at the village church.
When I get home, I place a sherry on the mantelpiece above the fireplace for Santa, leave a carrot out for Rudolf, place an empty stocking outside my bedroom door - and hope that by dawn I will once more experience that childhood feeling of emptying the stocking and finding delights such as chocolate, pens, socks and gadgets.
Christmas Day
Christmas morning (often with a hangover) is spent giving presents to my family and preparing for a hearty lunch – turkey, stuffing, roast potatoes, carrots, swede, Brussels sprouts, bacon-wrapped sausage, gravy, bread sauce and cranberry sauce. We polish some brass cutlery which is wheeled out only once a year, and get stuck into our grub. Crackers are pulled, jokes are told and, before we know it, we have eaten our chocolate log and Christmas pudding and the whole family is out-for-the-count and asleep on the sofa in front of the Queen's Speech.
The days that follow are spent reading new books, watching films, eating and drinking, and going out for walks in the Hampshire countryside near home. Some years we all jump in the car for a tour of the Christmas lights and decorations in the neighbourhood. One particular street holds a competition for what seems to be the most kitsch decorations on their porches and roofs.
Although I love to travel and I find the idea of an Australian Christmas on the beach quite inspiring, returning home is a tradition I'll probably continue to follow for many years to come.
Author: Tim Cleary
Date: 11 November 2009
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