Christmas is now just a word, perhaps some food different to otherwise, but the 24th December arrives every year and so we get prepared for it. At least that is the thing that everyone does. Me? Yes, well let’s get something clear. I am an atheist and only do it because the others find I should do it.
When your age climbs to a number with a 7 in front of it and your hair is a wonderful shade of silver with a few dark bits in between, the whole fuss and bother gets too much for you. We are talking about last Christmas. Mr. Swiss, my oldest son and me. No. 2 son was celebrating in Germany with his wife’s family. We did not have a Christmas tree that you could not see for the wrapped gifts surrounding it, and our decorations were sort of found in the cellar or borrowed. Things are not like they used to be and I am not sorry.
It was decided, by a decree that went out from Mr. Swiss (I do not think that Caeser Augustus does that sort of thing any more), that Mrs. Angloswiss could perhaps make an effort to cook something that she does not cook usually. I agreed, as anything expensive and special did not need long cooking times and great preparations. A piece of beef tenderloin (is that Rindsfilet in english?) is expensive but fool hardy. Just give it a sear on each side and “Bob’s your Uncle”. I did make an effort to create a herb butter to go with it. Naturally it has to have veg and the gang and everyone seems to do brussel sprouts with the Christmas dinner, so I did brussel sprouts. One problem was that No. 1 son does not eat brussel sprouts, they are green and being an autist he usually avoids green vegetables. No problem: Mrs. Angloswiss did some Vichy carrots, another simple effort that did not kill me with overwork. It was all matched with fried potato and everyone was happy.
A dessert? Oh come on, I do not do wonderful mouth watering concoctions of fantastic melt-in-the-mouth chocolate cream with delicious waffles or whatever. The supermarket has a great selection of ice cream and there is always a can of whipped cream in the fridge to go with it – no problem.
It was then that everyone disappeared to do their own thing. I read a book and Mr. Swiss watched the TV. No. 1 son had received a book featuring the Beatles with lots of photos and was happy. I received nothing from Mr. Swiss and he received nothing from me – we buy our own thing, much easier and less complicated.
A footnote – we celebrate in Switzerland on 24th December in the evening, the British Christmas Eve. The festivities continue on Christmas Day and Boxing Day.