Another Christmas has passed like so many others. This year part of my family (the NSW part) had lunch at my brother Michael's flat in Collaroy. Tom came with me this year and was indulged by his uncle's. Ancient PS1 video games played in the background while the lunch was prepared, the table was set, and a little part of England descended upon the northern beaches. Leg ham, roasted vegetables, pork and puddings were high on the list and cracker-pulling explosively rounded off the afternoon.

This has been ever so. My mother, being English, has always insisted on a traditional English Christmas dinner, no matter what the weather. And we have always been happy to eat it, regardless of the sauna-like conditions. I remember other families in our street having seafood lunches or cold salads and meats. Somehow this seemed very unChristmas-like, as if antipodean barbarians had somehow crashed a tea party. Maybe it was just common sense.

Below - my brother Peter and son Tom chat with the expanse of the Pacific in the background.