Strangest of tra­di­tions

Style Magazine - - Opinion - BY HOT FM BREAK­FAST HOST GABI ELGOOD

As you’re read­ing this I’m prob­a­bly drink­ing eg­gnog by the fire, singing Christ­mas carols as snow falls out­side... jokes, more likely I’m out back in the kid­die pool, swat­ting flies and eat­ing pavlova. Christ­mas Eve is ac­tu­ally pretty stereo­typ­i­cal for us; the fam bun­dles into the Tarago and off we go to church. My nieces par­tic­i­pate in the na­tiv­ity play just as I did when I was a kid (once I had the priv­i­lege of play­ing the don­key and my sis­ter, as Mary, in­sisted she was al­lowed to sit on me) and we sing along to the re­li­gious kind of Christ­mas carols which un­for­tu­nately don’t in­clude ‘All I Want for Christ­mas is You’. Christ­mas Day is when it gets fun... even though I’m 28 Santa still stuffs my stock­ing (mostly undies and socks), but there is al­ways some kind of toy weapon; one year a potato gun, another a nerf rocket and the best yet a fly­ing sling­shot mon­key that screamed while he zoomed through the air. Of­ten we have no idea what the con­trap­tion is so Mum’s al­ways on hand to demon­strate. What you have to un­der­stand is my mum is a very com­posed woman... with the ex­cep­tion of Christ­mas Day. Mum turns manic and the lounge room be­comes a war zone with us hid­ing be­hind fur­ni­ture and Mum cack­ling in the cen­tre of the room, armed and dan­ger­ous. Once a treaty is agreed upon and weapons low­ered, the rest of the day is pretty stan­dard; we open pressies, eat choco­late for break­fast, have a big fam­ily lunch fol­lowed by a food-coma nap, play with the kids toys in the arvo, wel­come vis­its from rel­a­tives, pick at left­overs for din­ner and head to bed with smiles on our faces.

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