Christmas doesn’t belong in summer, but we love it anyway

Christmas doesn’t belong in summer but we’ll keep on loving it anyway, Ann Wason Moore writes.

CHRISTMAS does not belong in the summer.

There. I said it.

The roast turkey, the Santa hats, the throng of people gathering in hot kitchens, the songs about firesides and snow and the North Pole — Australia just doesn’t fit into this Yuletide scene.

But you know what? I still love it.

Despite 27 years of summer Christmases, I only realised my secret love for this inverted holiday while packing our bags this week for a North American winter.

Sure, I can’t wait to actually be roasting my chestnuts by an open fire, and it’s true that so much about this festive occasion only makes sense in a cold-climate context (such as that chestnuts are actual nuts, not just a euphemism for what grows on your chest), but I love the Australian embrace of the absurd.

Santa wasn’t made to spend Christmas at the beach, but here we are. AAP/Adam Yip

We know it’s ridiculous to spray fake snow in our windows, but we do it anyway — while wearing Santa-emblazoned board shorts.

But what I love most of all is our laid-back approach to time-tested Christmas traditions, like carols and crafts.

While Americans will happily electrocute themselves in an effort to outdo their neighbour’s lighting displays (see: Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation, Deck the Halls and an actual reality TV series titled The Great Christmas Light Fight), down here we’ll happily share our laser light from Bunnings with our neighbour … for the price of a cold beer or two.

And while our northern neighbours are huddling into churches and chapels to sing traditional hymns or wrapping up like the Michelin man to go door-to-door carolling, we just rock up to the beach with our esky to watch various “celebrities” belt out songs that may or may not contain any links to the holiday.

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Australians have never been ones to take Christmas seriously. Picture Glenn hampson

When it comes to Christmas, we’re into it — we’re just not that serious about it.

Which explains one of my greatest ever Christmas experiences. And it happened right here, in Broadbeach.

It was our very first Carols by Candlelight. The children were finally of an age where they could stay up past 6pm without turning into a possessed Grinch so we made the most of it on a balmy Saturday evening.

Rather than settle in on the grass where they would immediately squirm and complain, we walked slowly along the path with both cherubs tucked into the pram, listening to the strains of I don’t even know what.

That’s when I saw it.

Clustered upon one of the beachfront decks was a group of three off-duty elves, clearly on a scheduled break from serving Santa.

Now, it’s a little disconcerting to come across an elf at any time, in any place — other than Santa’s grotto — but this was next level.

Elves having a smoke break. Photo: Supplied.

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One elf was texting, one was talking (loudly … in four-letter words) … and the other was smoking.

How amazing is that?

I mean, bad for its health (h-elf?), yes. But also awesome.

Clearly, these elves had little regard for either appearances or the naughty list. (Also, Santa’s surveillance skills were a little lacking — he may well see you when you’re sleeping, but obviously not when you’re smoking.)

My children were too young to notice, but I made sure I captured this magical Christmas moment for posterity.

If anything represents the spirit of an Aussie Christmas, it’s that photo. Three elf mates, chilling by the beach on a summer’s evening, sharing a darb.

It’s enough to ensure that, this year notwithstanding, I’ll be home for Christmas — with togs on.