Christ­mas in London

What a whirl­wind it’s been this week of festivities!

Every­one’s assur­ances that we would love spend­ing Christ­mas en famille here in Lon­don cer­tain­ly have come true, and there’s more to come.  We’ve dec­o­rat­ed our tra­di­tion­al mir­ror on the din­ing table with the lead sol­diers, Nut­crack­ers, skaters, sled­ders and the occa­sion­al stern bob­by.  What has hap­pened here?  A Nan­cy Ker­ri­g­an moment?

We have had great fun acquir­ing new orna­ments, although I cer­tain­ly do not need them, but what could be more fun than a cou­ple of new fairies?

There is noth­ing more fes­tive than trawl­ing the high street shops, peek­ing into this one and that, and com­ing away with a new bauble or two.

But of course the old friends are the best, real­ly.  What would life be with­out a felt cat dressed to the nines for a hol­i­day shop­ping trip?

Home has been beau­ti­ful but we’ve also been out and about.  We head­ed to the West End on a rainy but excit­ing after­noon to see Simon Cal­low onstage, sim­ply incred­i­ble in a one-man pro­duc­tion of “A Christ­mas Car­ol.”  How on earth he could play Scrooge, Mar­ley, all three Spir­its, Fezzi­wig, Bob Cratch­ett all by him­self for 90 min­utes, with no props except a pile of chairs and a string of fairy lights, I can­not imag­ine, but he pulled it off.  Even the lad who brings his Christ­mas turkey was spot-on.  “You, lad!”  “Whah?”

The dec­o­ra­tions on Leices­ter Square were just beau­ti­ful, even in the cold rain.

From there we were onto our first “pan­to,” a tru­ly mad, out­landish British Christ­mas tra­di­tion.  My friend Lily, who includ­ed us in her fam­i­ly’s pan­to trip, explained, “British peo­ple nor­mal­ly keep all their emo­tions in and behave them­selves, so pan­to is the one time we can let go and be com­plete­ly crazy!”  The idea is to take a typ­i­cal fairy tale, like Cin­derel­la in our case, and turn it into the ulti­mate audi­ence par­tic­i­pa­tion event.

The nar­ra­tor — a fall­en fairy look­ing to get his wings back (played by Stephen Fry’s ex-love Steven Webb!) — enlist­ed our help.  “When I sing, ‘I believe I can fly,’ it’s your job to get me back on track, so you shout, “Get on with it!’ ”  And when­ev­er a char­ac­ter tried to steal Cin­derel­la’s mag­ic slip­pers, we had to scream, “That’s not your present, that’s not your present!”  The fairy pelt­ed the audi­ence with sweets, tak­ing up a ten­nis rack­et to shoot them up into the upper cir­cle where we sat.  We had such fun.

And then, because it’s our fam­i­ly, we were onto the first food event of “Christ­mas in Lon­don,” with this fab­u­lous deliv­ery of hol­i­day treats from my dar­ling local shop, “Two Peas in a Pod.”

How clever was it of them to give all their cus­tomers a sheet offer­ing every sin­gle fruit and veg­etable you can pos­si­bly imag­ine and offer­ing to deliv­er it all for free right up to Christ­mas Eve.  I went a bit mad, admit­ted­ly, but the temp­ta­tion was too great to resist.  Toma­toes, mush­rooms, gar­lic and onions, spinach, romesco, lemons and limes, pota­toes, apples, cel­ery, shal­lots and Savoy cab­bage, and even organ­ic eggs!  As I took a late-after­noon nap on the dark after­noon of the 23rd, up drove the van from Peas with two smil­ing deliv­ery guys.  “Hap­py Christ­mas, enjoy!”

On the morn­ing of Christ­mas Eve, John went into the vil­lage to pick up our order of shucked oys­ters for stew and I pre­pared the fra­grant brew of cel­ery, gar­lic, onions, but­ter, cream.  I don’t know why I don’t make it more often as it brings an enor­mous smile to John’s face and he is very, very hap­py for the sev­er­al days that the enor­mous vat holds out.  So deli­cious and this year even Avery decid­ed she likes it!  Go on, give it a try and your fam­i­ly may have a new tra­di­tion for Christ­mas Eve!

There was no rest for the wicked, how­ev­er, because as soon as the stew was ready to rest and gath­er its fla­vors togeth­er, we were off to a new Christ­mas activ­i­ty for us: a heav­en­ly evening of Car­ols at West­min­ster Abbey, tick­ets cour­tesy of my won­der­ful friend Suzanne.  Sim­ply unworld­ly.  There were strict­ly no pho­tos allowed inside, so all I can share is the beau­ti­ful view as we wait­ed in the enor­mous­ly long queue.

I have always been a mas­sive fan of choral music, but my expe­ri­ences until now have always been lim­it­ed to love­ly record­ings.  Noth­ing could pos­si­bly have pre­pared me for the unearth­ly beau­ty, the more-than-human sound of dozens of lit­tle boys’ voic­es singing “Once in Roy­al David’s City,” waft­ing into the ceil­ing of the Abbey.  We were seat­ed right by the nave where Kate and William were mar­ried!  We were giv­en small can­dles as we entered the Abbey, and just before the final car­ol, “Hark, the Her­ald Angels Sing,” the verg­ers came around and lit the can­dles on the aisles and we lit from each oth­er’s.  The lights all went out.  Pure heaven.

How lucky we are to live here!

We raced home to light every sin­gle can­dle, warm up the oys­ter stew, and wel­come our friends Elspeth and her fam­i­ly and friend Leo.  How beau­ti­ful every­thing looked.

Except per­haps for the sog­gy, wretched egg rolls which are meant to be my fam­i­ly’s Christ­mas Eve tra­di­tion.  “They’re stick­ing to the foil!  Isn’t that the whole point of the foil?  Some­body get a spat­u­la.”  They lay, like beached dead things, on the plat­ter.  Oh well, there was love­ly home­made veg­etable fried rice to accom­pa­ny the stew, which was real­ly the star of the show.  Oh, and Elspeth’s savoury olive and nuts, and Leo’s con­tri­bu­tion of strong blue cheese and gin­ger bis­cuits!  Elspeth pre­sent­ed us with a framed pho­to of John and me at our new “plot of dirt,” tak­en on the day we wit­nessed the bungee jumpers in our front yard.  So, so thoughtful.

Final­ly it was Christ­mas Day, with all the beau­ti­ful presents we have spent all year choos­ing.  The nicest thing, for me, is a present only I would want, that it takes some­one who real­ly knows and loves me to choose.  John gave me a jar of home­made “Fox Point” sea­son­ing which he had con­coct­ed from indi­vid­ual spices and herbs from the Por­to­bel­lo Spice Shop.  He knew I was run­ning out and had relied on our Christ­mas trip home to replen­ish it.  What a per­fect gift.  And my friend Alyssa sent along the most per­fect dish, for some unknown rea­son bear­ing the words “Some­thing Else.”

This say­ing harkens back to the sum­mer day, long ago in Tribeca, when Alyssa’s hilar­i­ous son Elliot, about two years old and stark naked, stood bel­liger­ent­ly in front of the open pantry door, try­ing to find a snack.

“How about an Oreo?” Alyssa offered.

“NO!  Some­thing else!”

“How about a pretzel?”

“NO!  Some­thing else!”

How mag­i­cal and pecu­liar for Alyssa to find this dish, just for me.  “I real­ly wish I could have been there to see your face when you opened it.”

Avery was thrilled with the fake-fur throw we gave her to keep her warm in her frigid top-of-the-house bedroom.

Deli­cious.

After open­ing our presents, we head­ed next door to dar­ling Suzanne and John’s house to have a glass of bub­bly, a bite of smoked salmon, and a moment of fam­i­ly life.

Avery per­formed her usu­al mag­ic pho­tograph­ing the world’s most beau­ti­ful two-year-old, their grand­daugh­ter Polly.

How love­ly, and typ­i­cal of Suzanne, to know that spend­ing a bit of time with a child — and her tiny twin sib­lings! — would be just the tick­et to make us feel our Christ­mas was com­plete.  Of course, it helped to have a dog in wings there, as well.  Dear Piggy.

It was com­plete­ly heart­warm­ing to be includ­ed in so many friends’ plans, every­one want­i­ng us to feel the com­fort of sur­ro­gate family.

And that was our hol­i­day.  We missed our fam­i­ly and friends at Red Gate Farm des­per­ate­ly, and tied up quite a few hours of tele­phone time catch­ing up as the after­noon waned.  I got to hear from my uncle all about the suc­cess­ful oys­ter stew THEY made from my recipe and the oys­ters I had sent to them!  And I got to chat with my beau­ti­ful niece about the 620-piece Lego edi­fice she was work­ing on.  “My mom­my is wear­ing the apron you gave her, from Avery’s school Christ­mas Fair.  How was that Fair?  Tell me about the atmos­phere.”  I love it!

We set­tled down with roast­ed ham wrapped in bacon.  Only in England.

We set­tled down with our sup­per — the ham sup­ple­ment­ed with grat­ed pota­toes and shal­lots baked in Boursin and cream, and Lau­rie Col­win stuff­ing, heav­en — and the Christ­mas spe­cial of “Doc­tor Who.”  What could be better.

I must love you and leave you as we are expect­ed at a fes­tive din­ner par­ty in one of the most beau­ti­ful hous­es I have ever seen, host­ed by our ele­gant friend Eleanor who also hap­pens to be a wiz­ard cook.  I expect noth­ing less than deli­cious, and what a treat, to be cooked for.  There will be anoth­er fam­i­ly’s Christ­mas dec­o­ra­tions to admire, anoth­er fam­i­ly’s tra­di­tions to hear about, anoth­er fam­i­ly’s table to cel­e­brate.  John, Avery and I wish each and every one of you the warmest pos­si­ble hol­i­day, and a very Hap­py New Year!