And so this is Christmas

 I still scratch my head at why we do this to ourselves, this Christmas thing. 

It's hard, and stressful, and expensive, and anxiety creating, and to be honest, just plain strange. I mean, what other day of the year do you sit around, stuff yourself stupid with rich food, stick a paper hat on your head and fall asleep at the end of it, all with your relatives and friends in tow?

Still don't get it. 

For me, it was a nice, low-key Christmas. 

The queue at the McDonalds drive through at 9.30 a.m. was surprising. This is a bit of a tradition when spending Christmas with Blarney and Barney. When we've spent a few Christmases in Launceston, the only place open for coffee is McDonalds, so this was a bit of a carry over this morning when wanting a coffee (and after I tipped my stove top coffee maker over while washing the dishes. ) Thankfully, Blarney has a very good coffee machine. Still, with the long queue, the wait wasn't justified and I drove on. 

The sausage rolls for breakfast went down a treat. Thanks to RecipeTinEats, these were made last night and went down well, as in one of the Units commented that they were better than the ones Barney makes. I impressed myself. 

Christmas here is just a version of Seinfeld's Festivus - the Festival for the Rest of Us. 

First there is the airing of the grievances - of which there were many but done in a good-natured way. 

Then the showing of strength - and watching the Units play fight was a good enough alternative for this. Thirteen-year-old twin boys have to have some redeeming features. 

Of course we had the Festival/Festivus meal - and there was enough to feed a small army. All very nice. 

The only thing we didn't have was the Festivus pole. It seems you can get a small one on Etsy for around $20. 

Barney and I had a music off. A playlist of 80s and 90s bangers was playing quietly in the background. We made a completion out of shouting the name of the song and the band once was recognised. 

And at the end of the day, after the meal, after two laps of the block and finally settling down, in front of the open fire, which was playing on the television, it was time to go home to the cat. 

Christmas in the middle of Summer just doesn't feel the same as it does in Europe or America. You don't get to go all hygge, hunker down and sloth. The warmer weather means that a big hot meal is difficult to stomach, unless your family goes the seafood and salad route - which mine does most of the time. Christmas pudding when it's 35 degrees in the shade doesn't make sense. The cassata was made in honour of my aunt, who had a Christmas Day birthday, and I like to do this in her recipe. Christmas isn't quite the same without her and my uncle about. Both have now passed. 

And now I'm home with the cat.

It's done for another year. 

The line of least resistance and minimal participation has been taken. 

And life will go on.

Today's song: (Which I never knew came out in 1971)