Sunday, December 13, 2009

Christmas at the Homestead

It's been awhile since I've been home for Christmas, so The Man and I have slowly been developing our own traditions.

The Man's stack of mince pies. He's definitely embraced British tradition. I've a long way to go.

It's quite interesting sharing my life with a man for whom Christmas has little-to-no significance, growing up in a completely different culture. Of course, he's familiar with all the rituals from watching American TV, but something often gets lost in translation. I'll never forget when he asked me when the 'actual' Christmas Day was -- sometime in late-December?

Our tree, squished into a corner in our flat.

I miss going home in December, but it's often too expensive and risky travelling to Canada in winter. One year we almost didn't make it home after a massive winter storm stranded us in Ottawa. So we've stayed put the past three years and I have to say, I love London at Christmas.

Holly from Portobello Market in our 'fireplace'.

The city slows down, people stay in, and a sort of calm descends. Not even the Tube nor buses run on Christmas Day, and most everything is locked up tight (except some pubs, usually open from around noon to three). We get up late, make a special breakfast, then open gifts. If the weather's nice, we'll head to the South Bank to drift down the walk alongside the river and wander across the bridge to St Paul's. After some fresh (usually frigid) air, it's back to the flat and time to feast on turkey and pie.

1 comment:

Nancy J. Parra said...

Thanks for the pics and sharing the laugh of culture differences. Cheers~