CLICK ON THE SNOWFLAKE TO OPEN THE DOOR!
HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM S.A. Meade
Home for Christmas
Just over two and a half years ago we returned to England after nearly nine years in Arizona. One of the things that I really looked forward to was a proper English Christmas.
Christmas in the desert just isn’t the same. There’s something very wrong about seeing strings of lights wrapped around the trunks of palm trees or carefully draped over a cactus. It’s an odd thing to wake up on a cool December morning, see that silvery quality of light that tells you it’s winter, yet by midday you’re contemplating whacking the turkey on the barbecue rather than bunging it in the oven. It’s sad staring out of the window at a cloudless blue sky on Christmas Eve and knowing that the chances of a white Christmas are about the same as an M/M romance hitting the Sunday Times best-seller list.
We stuck to our British Christmas traditions as much as we could. I made sausage rolls and truffles on Christmas Eve, found a Christmas pudding and mincemeat in a supermarket, and cooked a turkey for Christmas dinner—sadly without chipolatas or a certain brand of stuffing. It just wasn’t the same, no matter how hard we tried to make it so. Heck, even the Christmas songs on the radio were different, no Slade, no Wizzard, no Jona Lewie.
To my delight, our first December in our village was marked by snow, lots of it. After years of only seeing snow on the peaks of the Pinal Mountains, it was a real treat to don the winter gear, stick my camera in my pocket and venture out into the cold. I’d forgotten about that silence that comes with snowfall—that special, expectant, magical silence. It set the scene for our first Christmas back home.
Our village has a lovely tradition. We have an award winning brass band and, hell, they are bloody good. Every Christmas Eve, they walk through the village collecting money and putting on impromptu little concerts. We bundled up and stood outside while the band played a handful of carols under the glow of the streetlight on the little green across the street. It was bitterly cold, our breath rose in clouds while we listened. After that, we went back inside and watched Christmassy things on TV while our little Charlie Brown Christmas tree twinkled with silvery lights in a corner of the living room.
And, yes, that Christmas Turkey, our village post office is also a very nice little shop. Last year I ordered our turkey and our vegetables and picked them up from the shop on Christmas Eve. No fighting the crazed hordes in the supermarket, no having to settle for a twenty-pound turkey because the smaller ones are gone. All very calm and perfect. It was a bloody good turkey too. This year we’re having something else but that shop has some damson gin which I reckon will make a very nice post-dinner tipple.
Anyway, that’s enough drivel from me. Here’s to a peaceful, happy Holiday season and to an even more peaceful New Year for us all.
S A Meade writes M/M romance when she’s not engrossed in her day job. She is partial to sloe gin, good food and has been known to cook a decent meal now and then. She lives with her husband, son and two very needy cats, in a cottage somewhere in deepest Wiltshire.
Advent Calendar Giveaway!
I’m giving away a copy of ‘Lord of Endersley’, my M/M historical as my advent calendar gift. Just leave a comment about your favourite Christmas treat. I’m always on the look-out for Christmas eats!
The BONUS BUMPER PRIZE QUESTION (don’t answer this - just save them up for Christmas Eve.)
11. Solve these fiendish cryptic festive clues:
a. Ernie, Ernie and Ernie
b. small planetary body belonging to a London mental institution
c. Us: Harold, William, Ethelred