Christmas...

Sitting cosily here with a cup of herbal tea to aid indigestion after the food marathon of today. It was traditional affair, I may add, of turkey, stuffing and all the trimmings followed by what I must say was a glorious American chesecake from Zorbas. 

There was of course the kourapiedes and melomakarouna and loved or hated Christmas cake (which I kind of love). 

There was also Mr Bean and Home Alone 2 to add to the festive mood and it snowed in Troodos!  I sneaked upstairs in the midst and heard the Queen's Christmas speech. I felt I needed to keep to some British traditions. She spoke about the importance of family and forgiveness. As I listened London rang in my ears, Christmas London and those crisp cold nights when I used to pretend I was smoking from the frosty breath, wrapped up in gloves, hat and scarf. I remember vendors selling hot chestnuts on Oxford Street, keeping warm from the little fire burning, the lights, the hope, the spirit. 

Something was always missing from Christmas in Cyprus, can't put my finger on it, that magic. It was always about consumption, what presents to buy, what food to eat. I truly feel sorry for those lost souls who filled up Jumbo these past two weeks. I watched in alarm at the rising number of people filling their trolleys with cheap things. I only know this because I had to drive past on my way to my grandmother's.

 I know they had important pressies to buy but I think they have forgotten the magic of Christmas.There are other ways in which you can give and it's not always with presents. It's a crisp, cold and starry night in Limassol tonight with smells of wood burning. Kids are sitting around consumed with their new presents, my grandparents sit huddled by the television and radiator, the young are out partying. The leftover turkey and stuffing remain tightly packed in cellophane to be eaten on Boxing Day. It may not be London, but somehow by miracle, I am content and seem to have remembered Christmas.