Christmas does funny things to you. It’s a day where all your worries, stresses and anxiety are swept aside by festive celebrations and locked up tight in a time-release safe. In the lead up to the holiday shops start closing, tradesmen refuse to return your calls and the whole country generally shuts down one plumber at a time. We had planned to go to my cousin’s place in Flemington for the day, where we’d be treated to a lamb spit roast and some chicken skewers. At about midday we got ready, dressing the kids, dressing ourselves and more or less making ourselves look pretty. What was amazing though, was the fact that we actually left on time! Usually on Christmas or on other days that can be used as an excuse for family gatherings, by the time the older child stops complaining that he wants to watch the Simpsons, and the younger one just generally stops complaining, and in the middle of it all we are somehow able to get a decent pair of clothes on, it’s about one hour after what time we had agreed to be there. And that’s before the one and a half hour trip to actually get there.
Which was why with no small amount of amazement we all piled into the car at about two whole hours in front of schedule and braved the Christmas roads in order to see the family. I say ‘braved’ not in the sense that there are so many hoons and reckless drivers out on Christmas, but more in the sense that a wayward traveller braves an abandoned house haunted by restless spirits. Geelong was dead. Well, more dead than usual. We drove through the city centre without a single car in our way, nor with any parking spaces filled. With the carparks empty and the streets deserted the roads resembled more like that of an old western town, complete with trash whirling in the air and a tumbleweed bouncing across the road. Well, I exaggerate with the tumbleweed. Nonetheless, with the roads cleared and the traffic lights favouring us we made record time, even with the constant fear that police were lurking around every billboard and bush.
When we finally reached my cousin’s place we were met by a classic Christmas scene; family gathered around a dining table discussing the year’s events and generally having a good time. But as I got closer I realized that it was just the wives with their children gathered around the table discussing the year’s events. The fathers were downstairs, poking the charcoal smouldering underneath the slowly turning spit roast and talking about – of all things – cars. After assuring us the spit roast would be ready in about half an hour we sat and chatted about all manner of things, mainly cars and buildings and properties and ‘how’re the renovations holding up?’
Half an hour passes in a hurry and my stomach reminds me that it’s more than happy to start digesting itself.
