Ben and I established a tradition for this auspicious day about 10 years ago. See, in New Zealand, Christmas Day is the big family event, and we visited friends' family events for the first few years, but we began declining invitation and have been engaged in our of our own. Ben and I stay in bed late, drinking champagne and eating berries, (some years, handpicked by us!) and the best bit is, we read cookbooks we bought during the year. For hours.
Fortunately or unfortunately, I've been super good in this department all year, and I have only one new cookbook, my friend Maree Connolly's Marlborough Cancer Society fund-raiser cookbook, but I have tons I can go back to, and this time of the year, Nigella and Lois Daish call me. I might revisit the River Cottage books, too.
For some years we had waifs' party on Christmas Eve, but as my weaving started to take over the entire house, that came to an abrupt end. Which is not a bad thing for Ben because he works until early/mid-afternoon.
So, while some of you may be rushing from church to relatives to relatives, or stressing over dinner for 18, don't think of me; keep the eye on the road.
PS: Berries were picked by us yesterday afternoon: raspberries aren't quite up to par this year, but boysenberries are absolutely bodacious! Usually we have nuts, too, but I ate the almonds while watching the telly last night. Sorry, Ben.