A little late now but Tom and I had Christmas over at my mum's apartment in Dee Why. Every year the assembled seem to shrink in number, as marriages fail and family leave town. I can't talk really, since I spent three Christmas's in Japan.

But it was a pleasant day nevertheless, with my brother Peter doing a roast and my mother enjoying the day as best she can. These days she has many ailments and is noticeably frailer.

It is a far cry from those salad days at Killarney Heights, when Christmas pulsed with noise and discarded wrapping paper. Visits to neighbours for drinks began early, people imbibed too much and too soon. All this was followed by an enormous and traditional lunch. Somehow, the apparent mayhem of the kitchen always made it it's way in perfect order onto the dining table. White table cloths, my grandmother's best silver and strange porcelain objects that were designated for gravy and mint sauce, and zillions of bright, joke-infested bon-bons. These sat amidst the steaming turkey, supremely crisp potatoes and cool slices of leg ham.

Tom enjoyed himself and was especially keen on pulling bon-bons, or Christmas crackers. (See previous posting) What boy doesn't like an explosion?