One of the best inventions on the Antipodean continent clearly is to party twice, where everyone else on Earth only does so once a year! Having integrated perfectly in our chosen home (except for those especially honoured born-and-bred-Aussies in the club, who obviously find nothing unusual with expecting Santa Claus in July), we had a proper Christmas in July party in a suitable cold place. Megalong Valley managed to survive our attentions the second year in a row, and it may or may not be lucky that the back of the homestead is not visible from any main road. At least we think it isn’t. Hope. Well.
In either case, the prize for the most impressive outdoor lights display clearly goes to this year’s decorators. Suffice to say that the result shouldn’t go on the web site, as it may offend adult viewers and puzzle children. I’d just love to hear the explanations parents of 5 year olds might come up with, about what that dazzling light display depicted!
Of course, there was also the much anticipated food and the even more feared stomach size problem. I usually like having a smallish stomach, as it makes it easier for me to stop gorging myself at some point, simply because there’s that point during eating where the developing stomach ache surpasses my taste buds’ clamouring about MORE, MORE! This Christmas in July dinner I managed to not stuff myself to the point of having to lie down (which happened last year), only to the point of feeling like I was about to pop, but oh it was so sad. There was FOOD LEFT OVER! And I wish I had a more fitting word than just food. It was divine. Absolutely. And. Utterly. Divine. Turkey that was so good I’m sure the birds would have felt honoured to know. Turnips (BTW, am I the only one who always thinks of Black Adder when I hear the word? Probably. But lately the word also has me salivating, which is a bit disconcerting as this happens at the same time as my mind’s eye focuses on Black Adder’s rather unappetizing helper, whose name I can’t even remember). Where was I? Right. Turnips. With Gravy, and the capital letter is no accident. Baked potatoes (we had some… many… left for the next day, and they went very well with the full cooked English breakfast!). Baked, as well as cooked carrots. If I’ve forgotten any other vegetables, it’s because my mind is still firmly focused on turnips, and I apologize to the cooks.
Speaking of cooks, my everlasting hero worshipping goes to Anne, who managed the kitchen and turkeys and kitchen elves, and only slightly chewed my ears (instead of biting my head off) when I ventured into the kitchen wanting to offer help. I understood (I’ve been known to jump people, although not in kitchens as this is not a natural environment for myself), and raced off in fear before actually managing to offer help. Admittedly, with my kitchen chore disabilities, I would have probably been more in the way than anything else.
Al and Ross bravely slaved away in the kitchen all day along with Anne (now another disclaimer: if I’ve missed anyone SORRY! It’s because I was lazy enough to not be in the kitchen enough to find out. Which increases my hero worshipping, but not my knowledge of the facts). Ross also managed to create Soup. Again something with a capital letter. It was broccoli and stilton soup and so good that I had some for breakfast the next morning, until I felt I was going to explode and splatter green everywhere. In favour of the rather nice decoration I stopped.
Those many of us not working their diverse body parts off, in order to feed the troops with probably the nicest Christmas dinner on the entire continent (and thus on Earth, as everyone else doesn’t know there’s a Christmas in July!), enjoyed various pastimes. Some walking was done, with an impromptu wine tasting at the end of it (although I SERIOUSLY DOUBT the impromptu bit of it! Hah!). Others went horse riding and enjoyed the truly stunningly beautiful valley. And a small delegation found out in detail about Japanese massages and wellness, and although I’m not 100% sure about walking about barefoot to feel different textures on the soles of my feet in bathers (I’d be fine in a weezle and assorted skiing equipment, bare feet are OK), this sounded like a very nice alternative. VERY nice.
Let me try to sort my memories into some sort of time line. This got addled a bit due to my intense focussing on the foody part of the weekend… we all arrived on Friday at Eureka Homestead over the evening, and started out with some beer and wine to get ourselves into the spirit of the weekend. I’m not completely sure about the details, but there were no weird games involved. They all happened on Saturday. So bed time at some point, and the next morning we reconvened to enjoy a lovely cooked breakfast Ben provided (one of these days I’ll know how to do the mushrooms, I asked poor Ben so many questions he must have thought (with reason, as I must admit) that I’m daft. I am. Especially when it comes to kitchens, filling in forms or worse, a tax return). Where was I? Those turnips are still getting to me.
After breakfast we split up into a walking, a horse riding, a wellness and most important of all, a kitchen group. After spending a very enjoyable time (except possibly the kitchen team) we all got back and prepared for the Big Event. Tables were shuffled about, chairs rearranged and we all got into a range of black-tie-dinner-dress versions. Quite impressive. Then Dinner Was Served. Ohmygodwasitgood. For further details scroll back up, I don’t want to salivate all over my laptop keyboard.
With dessert of Christmas Cake, Christmas Pudding and Brandy butter (Rick failed to beat his previous year’s record of I think 9 pieces of Brandy butter, and if I may say so I was glad when he stopped around number 7, because he looked like a smidgen more and he might share his previous dinner with everyone and everything around him). Red succeeded Tash in the Making Of The Christmas Pud this year and his efforts were well received. The Chrismas Cake was perfect as well, and I got especially lucky with Ross giving me the icing off his. I love marzipan, especially when it comes with spicy white icing on it…
After retiring to the living room, and when everyone was able to assume more upright seating positions again, the round of Kris Kringle was started. It turned into a pretty quick affair, as hardly any thievery ensued, but this enabled us to take full advantage of glow-in-the-dark bubble blowing, shooting darts at people, drinking more beer and wine, and enjoying the beautifully decorated Christmas tree and of course the lights display outside the window. Did I mention certain areas sparkled?
Jill introduced a game involving a lot of flour and a candle on top of it, which later got adjusted slightly and we all took turns trying to shoot the candle to kill the flame, without (well, preferably without) covering too much of the living room and other participants in flour. Jill also taught a few of us a card game which involved some fighting for spoons, although the game disguised itself as a harmless pass cards around and collect four of a kind type of game. This lady is dangerous. I’m just glad it was spoons and not, for instance, forks, because I doubt I’d have been able to use my hands the next day otherwise. NO JILL nothing but spoons allowed for the future either!
The next morning we had another big breakfast and after tidying up the place, removing all Christmas lights and packing up the Christmas tree, a general exodus ensued. It was a fantastic weekend and I’ll be very, very sad to be missing it next winter. Except of course, it will be summer. Maybe I’ll have to introduce an Australian Christmas with Santa Claus in bathers… no, I don’t think it’ll catch on. This way is much better.
My apologies to all I’ve forgotten to mention for their efforts in organizing and generally making the weekend as brilliant as it was. Further apologies to everyone for the length of this write-up 😉
Merry Christmas!
Matina
