My first UK Christmas.
I spent my first UK Christmas in Sunderland in 1976, where I was studying Naval Architecture. Despite the festive decorations, the multitudes of shoppers frantically fighting their way through endless queues and evening parties of revellers dressed in Santa suits, I had no idea that it was such an important time of year as I found out over the years.
I was pleasantly surprised when the owners of the corner shop I regularly used, kindly invited me for Christmas lunch. I immediately accepted their generous invitation as I was very keen to learn all about British traditions.
On arrival, the hosts wished me a Merry Christmas with a large glass of sweet Sherry. The alcohol gave me enough Dutch courage to chomp my way through a very bland turkey dinner served with overcooked vegetables, wallpaper-paste gravy and finished with a strange warm dark dessert covered in a creamy sauce laced with brandy. A litre bottle of Blue Nun helped digest the dinner, including a vegetable I had never seen before. Mini cabbages called Brussels sprouts which, years later I grew to love.
As soon as I sipped my last drop of Maxwell House coffee, their daughter, a very shy thirtysomething, university graduate, invited me up to her room to listen to some music. We exchanged trivialities about our respective countries, likes and dislikes, etc… We were having harmless fun until she suddenly grabbed my hand, gazed into my eyes through her jam-jar-bottomed spectacles and said: “I like you.”
After recovering from the shock, I mumbled some lame excuse that I needed to finish my homework and, forgetting the box of chocolates she had given me as a present, I quickly retreated to my bedsit a few doors away. If anything at all, I was truly impressed that my neighbours were the living example of Northern hospitality I have been experiencing over the last 45 years.
A couple of years later, Karen introduced me to my first real Christmas in the council house we shared in Easington Village. She decorated the house from top to bottom and lovingly wrapped mountains of presents, which she piled under the beautifully-adorned tree.
I was conveniently put in charge of the cooking and have since then, prepared most of our Christmas dinners.
Over the years, I experimented with alternative offerings, such as a homemade five-birds-in-one which received mixed reviews. A great idea of having a tapas buffet was given a try and immediately scrapped in favour of a traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings and the obligatory “seventeen or eighteen vegetables” according to the kids.
Often, unable to really enjoy the food I cooked, having slaved for hours in a steamy kitchen, I just ended up nibbling on a few morsels and later snoring through the Queen’s speech while the rest of the family enjoyed my alcoholic brandy sauce on their pudding.
Nowadays, after many ingenious tweaks, I make sure the bulk of the dinner is prepared on Christmas Eve, leaving me to leisurely perform the finishing touches on the day.
