I suppose Christmas was associated with pleasant events when I was subadolescent but, from when I was about 15, the memories are either neutral or negative. The last I ever had with my mother was in 1974, when I was running school camps at Steiglitz, 60 miles west of Melbourne. Cyclone Tracy had destroyed Darwin overnight and there was only sporadic news of the situation as I drove to Melbourne for Christmas lunch with Mum, her partner and my sister.

After the ritual "Happy Christmas" at the door, the first thing Mum said to me was "Why don't you ever come to visit me?" with a rather critical tone to her voice. Now, those of you who've run school camps will know they are very demanding of one's time and energy and I had had very little of either to spare for the previous six months. And my mother was a perfectly competent driver and had her own car. So my response was, "I'm here now Mum." But she continued, in the same critical tone, with "You know what I mean!"

All I could think of was, "You know, Mum, it's exactly the same distance from Melbourne to Steiglitz as it is from Steiglitz to Melbourne." The implication went straight through to the keeper, unobserved as far as I could tell.

Over lunch, my sister thought to quiz me about how I ran the camp at Steiglitz. Knowing that her personal and public political leanings were well to the right of Genghis Khan (while I had been a long-term activist in a series of things to do with conservation and human rights, thus qualifying as a bit of a leftie) I responded with a noncomittal "Oh, you know, the usual things." This just provoked her to becoming more and more assertive in her pursuit. After five or six increasingly aggressive repetitions of her question I finally decided to tell her that the program concentrated on outdoor education with an emphasis on learning to handle responsibility and the group dynamics of their particular school group. Her response was, "My God, he's in charge of kids!"

The only positive thing about the whole experience was the response to all this from Mum's partner, who'd had experience of Eastern Europe under the rule of the Communist Block. He took my sister to task by saying that she had persisted in digging when I'd made it clear that I'd thought she'd find the detail exasperating and had answered her questions diplomatically; he went on with the comment that her response was totally unwarranted.

I'd already scheduled my Boxing Day to New Year break, over previous years, to be taken at Nariel (for the oldest of Australia's current folk festivals); as often as possible ever since I've been there for Christmas as well. My ideal Christmas lunch is to sit in the middle of the creek (a lovely trout stream) with a glass (plastic, actually, to minimise hazards to feet) of champagne, surrounded by friends; minimal preparation and minimal cleanup but optimal satisfaction, especially since this is usually followed by a session in the shade, on the bank.

Cheers, Rowan.
And a Happy Christmas/ Hanakka/ Solstice/ whatever floats your boat and Merry New Year to you all.