Travel
Above left, author Krista Wilkinson, left, enjoys her first British Christmas, even with the silly paper crown – a must for the U.K. holiday. Above at right, the author's husband, Pete, and their daughter Grace prepare for another trip across the pond for Christmas last year.
A Christmas tradition across the pond By KRISTA WILKINSON For The Edge
T
hey say there’s no place like home, and no other time is that more true than at Christmas.
This year, I will be spending Christmas here at home with my family for the first time in five years and to say that I’m getting excited is definitely an understatement. You see, back in the summer of 2005, I married the Englishman of my dreams and shortly after the wedding jetted off to my new life in the U.K. That first year we did manage to make it back to the States for Christmas but thanks to the exorbitant cost of plane tickets at Christmas, every year since then I have spent the holidays in “merry olde England”. In total, I have spent five Christmases in the U.K. over the years but none have been more memorable than my first one way back in 1999 when I spent nine months there as a 19-year-old study abroad student at the University of Reading. Like most students, I was skint (that means broke in Brit speak) and so couldn’t afford an extra plane ticket home. Instead, I packed up my dorm room (they kicked us all out over the Christmas break to make way for conference
December 2, 2010
attendees) and headed off to Derby to spend a few days with my then-boyfriend (now husband) at his student house before we both hopped a train to his parents’ house near Cambridge. I won’t go into too many details, but let’s just say that seven university guys in one student house doesn’t exactly make for ideal living conditions. They’re choice of, ahem, “wallpaper” for the bathroom was interesting. Put it this way, I found out far more about British “glamour models” as they’re called over there than I ever wanted to know. Needless to say, I was more than relieved when we arrived at the parents’ house. Unfortunately, I was also sick as a dog. I had caught a nasty case of tonsillitis complete with sore throat, fever and a croaky voice. Not exactly the ideal way to spend your first Christmas away from home. Nevertheless, I was eager to find out what a proper British Christmas was really like. For starters, I was surprised to learn that turkey (as opposed to a classic Dickensian goose) is the traditional food of choice for the festive season. Besides turkey for Christmas, this was also the year I was introduced to Brussels sprouts. I can honestly say I had never seen, let alone actually eaten a Brussels sprout before this moment. They were never a traditional part of my family’s Christmas
dinner when I was growing up. So here I was on Christmas Day eager to make a good impression on my boyfriend’s parents. “Do you like sprouts, Krista?” his mum casually asks. “Um, I don’t really know. I’ve never tasted one,” I reply. The result of that conversation is a plate piled high with 12 (yes, you heard me, 12!) Brussels sprouts. I politely nibbled one and immediately found out that I was definitely NOT a fan. I left the rest on the plate. Unfortunately, I found out too late that at my boyfriend’s house, one does not leave food on one’s plate – particularly if it is Christmas dinner. His nana, a wonderfully forthright woman of 92, honed in on my leftover sprouts like a missile. She announced to the entire table that I hadn’t finished my sprouts and added that, in her day, nothing was left on the plate – not even the fat! With all eyes upon me, I nervously admitted that while the sprouts were OK, they weren’t my favorite. The conversation then revolved around what was to become of my wasted sprouts. The birds wouldn’t have them (smart birds, I say). I laughed anxiously as the sweat began to pop out on my forehead. Luckily, my boyfriend came to my rescue like a knight in shining armour and gallantly offered to finish off my uneaten sprouts. Phew. Crisis averted.
Sprouts aside, I enjoyed my first Christmas experience in England, particularly the bucks fizz (mimosas), Baileys and mulled wine. In my family, the most exciting drink you’ll get is a glass of virgin eggnog or maybe a mug of spiced cranberry tea. Here, I was greeted with bucks fizz at breakfast, a mid-morning glass of sloe gin, wine with dinner, an after dinner sherry and in the evening, I met my new best friend – Baileys with ice. For the first time in my life, I was tipsy before 5 p.m. Since that first British Christmas, I eventually became much more accustomed to celebrating on the other side of the pond. Thankfully, I love roast turkey so I didn’t mind eating it twice in the space of four weeks. My mother-in-law got the hint that first year and has made a special serving of broccoli for me instead of sprouts ever since. Bless her! I’m also quite happy to pose for photos in my silly paper crown after a couple of glasses of her homemade sloe gin. Obviously, it wasn’t the same as being back home with my family for Christmas, but it was nice to experience such a special holiday somewhere different. However, this year I am finally back home for Christmas and I’ll happily raise a glass of virgin eggnog to you and wish you all a very Happy Christmas. Cheers everyone!
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