Christmas

Pacific highway
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They may have just beaten the Aussies in the test series this week, but there's one thing South Africans don't get enough credit for - a hot Christmas. In England we always marvel at Australians for getting the barbie tongs, thongs and turkey out on the beach for the annual get-together, forgetting there's a whole other southern hemisphere of nations doing exactly the same. So while I was relishing Crimbo on the lilo, Candice was somewhat indifferent. Not to say we weren't both very excited.

Crooked River vineyard
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With friends Mike and Clare over from England, our friend Jez had booked a house in Culburra Beach, about 2 and half hours drive south of Sydney and next to one of Australia's best national parks, Jervis Bay. We arrived to a huge house with a top floor kitchen/dining room/what-would-soon-become-dancefloor and views to the beach just several hundred metres away from the balcony. And it turned out Culburra had a drive through off-license. We were in business.

We had the right-hander off the rocks to ourselves, save the school of dolphins that swam past just metres away.

View from the house
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Neeldess to say no-one made it to church. Days were spent swimming in the sea before breakfast, then going on drives to Jervis Bay to the many beaches around its shores. There was Caves, a surf spot in a sweeping and largely deserted bay where we had the right-hander off the rocks to ourselves, save the school of dolphins that swam past just metres away.

There was Hyams beach, which claims to have the whitest sand of any beach in the world. Honeymoon beach, a crescent-shaped bay where we snorkelled with manta and sting ray, Steve Irwin RIP not far from our minds.

Long Beach
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By night it was time to sample the wines we picked up at Crooked River vineyard on the drive down. And on Christmas Eve we had a bogan party. A bogan is the Australian equivalent to a chav, but with a distinctly rural feel. Think Lakeside-meets-West Virginia.

Christmas day itself we had turkey and ham from the local butcher, with all the trimmings, and wine and beer. And with 10 people drawing on 10 different family traditions ingrained over the years, an eclectic mix of stuffings, nuts, fruit and turkish delight, all consumed on the balcony under what turned out to be a blazing sun. A true Aussie Christmas.

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I had to leave for work that night with a 4am start on Boxing Day which went down like hot sixpence but left the others to a very pleasant two days' recovery period.

Not long until New Year's rolled around and it was off to Ravesis, a bar on the main drag at Bondi overlooking the beach and many backpackers stumbling round trying to work out various international timezones to call home at the stroke of midnight. And with public transport more stuffed than a Christmas turkey, we eventually got home around 3am. Goodbye 2008, hello 2009.

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The new year and it's back to work. Not for long though, as we're off to Byron Bay next week, a present to me from Candice (she's coming too though, lucky thing), then New Zealand in February.

But first we've got to go see those Saffas knock the Aussies again in a one day at the SCG in a few weeks (minus man-of-the-moment Graeme Smith). I'm keen to wear a three lions shirt but have been assured I'll be lynched.

Happy new year!