7 good things | Of the holiday season
With decade-old traditions and last minute improvisations
Where I capture 7 good things to remember the season.
1 December started more suddenly than usual this year, as it was the day just after our Thanksgiving celebration. The ADVENT CALENDAR was exceptionally delayed and a few hours late, but all was put right before nightfall. It is the calendar we made 21 years ago the year Leo was born. I sewed the bags hurridly and we glued on felt numbers with friends who were over for dinner well into the night. For years it bestowed wooden blocks and Steif animals and playmobils and marbles; now usually chocolates. What it confers is instant teleportation to the glow of the fireplace in our Christopher Street apartment, over which it first hung. I’m not sure who likes it more, the children or we.
2 Two friends, who are the closest of friends, have a longstanding tradition of going to PORTOBELLO MARKET on a Friday before Christmas. This year I went too. It was an ice blue and sunny day. After a short amble along Golborne Road we stopped for a ritual coffee at Lisboa Patisserie. I found, forlorn on the outskirts of the messy displays of a sidewalk vendor, a good addition to my Beryl Woodsware collection; I bought an irresistible leather pouch for which I have no need; and we had lunch at AKUB. It was a delicious day.
3 With some trepidation my mother and I went to Oxford Circus on the Saturday before Christmas and it was very fun! It was a dim morning, the Regent Street angels were not yet lit — I loved them just as well in their intricate bareness. Selfridges, from its windows to the Christmas shop, was every shade of kitsch; we stopped at lovely Postcard Teas for pleasure and a few last minute gifts; we explored every floor of Liberty’s, delighting, as always, at least as much in the building as the wares; we eyed Fortnum & Mason from afar, happy to be waiting for the bus rather than in the shop’s queue snaking around the block. We absconded before nightfall (at three).
4 Amid the frenzy of preparations, there is always an enshrined moment to CHOOSE THE CHRISTMAS TREE. It is a legacy of our New York days, tinged with a hint of film nostalgia. In German fashion we wait until the 24th (a few days earlier if Max is getting too anxious), gather as many children as possible, and walk over to the nearest Christmas tree vendor for the prickly business of choosing just the right one. Should it be wide or slim, how tall? — ‘taller’!, is it balanced, leafy and dense? The pitfalls are many and the negociations lengthy. But invariably it is always, in the end, the ‘best tree we’ve ever had.’
5 With much talk about the impending closure of SMITHFIELD MARKET we decided we must seize the opportunity before it is too late and go there to buy the meat for Thomas’s traditional birthday steak tartare. Smithfield is a historic wholesale meat market in central London, operating between the hours of 12 am and 7 am. There was no traffic when we arrived after midnight and the streets were deserted coming from the East, but just around the corner from Charterhouse Square we were met with a strangely quiet traffic jam winding around the market, a rehearsed silent cacophony of vans and lorries and traffic officers. The purveyor of grass-fed beef we had identified, however, was still anxiously waiting for his delivery, several hours late, so as we ambled through the market, not eager to go home empty handed, we joined the long queue at a pork seller and, on a whim and without a plan, bought a whole half belly. And so we have 7kg of Blythburgh pork in the freezer to start the year.
6 What is the term for a New Year’s Eve grinch? It’s me. I am forever torn between the strong temptation to do absolutely nothing, and the nagging uneasiness at the idea of doing absolutely nothing. Often this puts me in a bad mood. This year my one resolve was to not be irritated. In the end, entirely by chance, we struck the perfect balance. On the 30th we asked some friends whether, by any chance, they too had no specific plans for the next day. We invited them over for an early drink, ostensibly early with no pressure to ‘last’ until midnight. That morning, buoyed by the realisation that we had made these last minute plans, we snagged reduced oysters and half price clams from the fishmonger who was eager to go home and pop the champagne. It turned into an easy and fun evening, which in end lasted well into 2025, and all the more joyful for having been completely unplanned.
7 My intention was to grow amaryllis and paperwhites for Christmas but I nearly forgot about the bulbs and only got around to planting them hastily well into December. There was barely a sign of growth by Christmas. But already the bulging buds and soaring stalks signal an optimistic uptick toward spring. And every day we gain a few minutes of light.
Happy New Year!
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Valerie - Just a note to say thank you for Nettle and Quince. I don’t miss an episode, and I’m rarely left without a bit of dust in my eye (especially around holidays or when there are wistful NYC memories). Happy New 2025 to you and the Laurers! Looking forward to the next N&Q. All my best, Peter