Fremantlebiz - Paul's Letter from Australia

Christmas eve and all is quiet

Last night we had a special Christmas eve tea in the garden for our teenagers because tonight they have been rostered for work in their part time jobs at KFC. A lot of people can't get enough chicken.

We served a simple enough menu, a kilo of four types of olives from our bulk collection mixed with small cubes of fetta cheese and a caper, garlic and olive oil dressing, plus a tray of assorted fried dainties - vegetable samosas, mini spring rolls and mini dim sims. Pepsi for the kids and a bottle of bubbly for Mum and Dad. All over by 7.30 pm so we went inside to watch Oprah Winfrey dispensing largess to a studio audience comprised of American teachers.

But while we were in the garden we noticed that one of our neighbours was going to have a celebratory night. The side fence is high enough to obscure eye contact but we know the aural signs. When the man has a few drinks he develops a laugh like an aging castrati, even though he is only in his late twenties. This chortle then permeates the night air every few seconds for the rest of the night. I would not thought it was possible for an individual to laugh so loud and so long. It goes on for hours as if every slightest utterance by his visitors was a joke.

I think they must have had a religious bent too, because as the night advanced the conversation became more enthusiastic and there many loud exclamations of “Jesus Christ!”

Well it is Christmas after all, and being Italian, the neighbours are probably also Catholic. Long after we went to bed there were many other loud expletives, but I was mostly asleep until a particularly loud cacophony at 2.15 am woke me up. It was as if someone next door had become overly emotional. A party pooper perhaps? It was then that I learned from my wife that our neighbours had been keeping her awake since we had gone to bed, and she says that the loud expletives were not religious at all.

I listened and couldn’t hear anything. The neighbours had either collapsed or gone to bed. My wife had gone into deep sleep almost immediately after she told me she had been kept awake. Meanwhile I had become fully awake. Now an hour later I am at the keyboard. I hope they are all satisfied. It is my plan go back to bed in an hour or so, and sleep until about 9am. Then I will get the angle grinder out and do a bit of stone cutting. I hope this will not disturb anyone. I am also going to bribe the three brass instrument playing members of the tribe to do some practice in the garden. While I am at it, I must remind my youngest son to gather up all the empty drink cans and flatten them with a hammer for our scrap metal collection.

There were a lot of pre-Christmas celebrations yesterday. One of my plumber sons (son number 1) had an invitation to a lavish industry luncheon. Lots of huge nor-west prawns and social lubricant are available for conspicuous consumption at these affairs. The company picked him up in a bus about mid-day and delivered him home at about 8pm. I didn’t see him when he came in. He went straight to bed. Son number 2 has just come through the front door at 3.58 am. He has been to a party but hasn’t been drinking. He was surprised to see his dad at the keyboard. Me too. The lad has gone to bed now. I suppose this means I will have to cancel my noise making plans, because I don’t expect either sons to resurface until mid-morning.

Today promises to be a busy one. The last frantic day of preparation before we all pig out tomorrow. We still go for the “traditional” roast dinner here. Waiting in the fridge is a leg of pork and a couple of plump chickens. My wife intends to bone the poultry today and stuff it with nice edibles. Boning chickens is a fine art which she has mastered well. All beyond me, but I tend to help with the stuffing. We had to search high and low for cooking string last week. It seems to be one of those things which not many people use any more. Some sweet potatoes and green peas will embellish the feast tomorrow, not forgetting lots of brown gravy.

Someone will have to nip up to the nearby Action supermarket early this morning, like at about 8am, because they have advertised fresh lettuce at 70 cents – half price. We need some for the prawn cocktails which will be served before the main meal. They won’t run out in a hurry, but the Christmas eve queues at the cash registers are notorious.

For dessert tomorrow we are serving a layered chocolate mousse topped with fresh cream, strawberries and spiked with a chocolate mint stick. My wife made up the mousse yesterday to set it in its individual serves. Final preparation with trimmings will be tomorrow morning – easy peasy.

So as to remind everyone what Christmas is about, we have a Nativity arrangement in the house. My wife sets it up every year. The small figurines are of white, unglazed ceramic. They were given to us about twenty years ago by some friends who owned a commercial pottery. Unfortunately the husband stumbled in life when he decided to excavate a secret chamber under his factory and experiment with hydroponic horticulture. I think he said "Jesus Christ" when the cops arrived.

So now everything appears set here for a pretty good day tomorrow. A Christmas dinner for probably 13 people. I am trying hard not to think about the washing up. Naturally Santa comes tonight. It is a strange custom which allows him to get the credit for other people’s hard work.

I have recently heard it is better to do some exercise well before a heavy meal rather than after. I must try that.

© MMIV Paul R. Weaver.

About the writer

Check out the index of my "common-man" monologues about survival in 21st century Australia – plus a little history occasionally. An original essay is added most days.

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