Here in Australia, Christmas is bang in the middle of summer. Christmas lights don't really work to create a cheery atmosphere when they aren't effectively visible until 9 p.m. Roasts and plum puddings aren't the ideal fare for days around 40C. Cards with snow-covered buildings and fat men in red, fur-lined suits don't remind me of anything festive at all. And don't get me started on the awful renditions of carols that supermarkets seem to play. Perhaps they get them really cheap.
I have to say my most memorable Christmases were the ones I spent in the U.K. Everything makes a whole lot more sense when it's cold, snowy and dark by 4.30 p.m.
My English wife simply can't correlate longer, hotter days and lighter evenings with the end of the year. It just feels 'wrong' to her. One of my best friends, however, commented a few days ago that now we've had some really hot days it's starting to feel like Christmas.
I know what he means. I guess I used to feel like that too. But once I had spent time in Europe during this time of year I was able to recognise where certain elements of the Christmas tradition really belong.
For me, it'll be the chance to spend some quiet time with my wife and friends. And that's what Christmas it truly about.
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