Opinion
Our unhinged annual Christmas obsession is the one thing Aussies can’t control
Kate Halfpenny
Regular columnistA week out from Christmas, I wake to something unusual. My husband is awake first! Even without coffee, he seems pretty pumped. Leans – looms – over. Brandishes his phone: “Darling. Just in. Fantastic news.”
Unreal. Has the charger I’ve been looking for since 2018 been found? Fridge has sold on Facebook Marketplace? The mechanic’s decided it’s just a loose cap? Keith Urban wants to meet me? Botox is now free on the PBS for over 50s?
Better. The seven-day forecast. “Christmas Day is going to be 28 and sunny.”
Amid our shared exultation we may have fist-bumped. The national sport that is Christmas Day weather has kicked off in fantastic fashion.
For Australians, the December 25 weather forecast is a religion. The stakes are higher than a Beefmaster at full sizzle. Everyone morphs into Rob Gell, our hottest obsession the dice roll of 38 degrees with punishing sunshine or a muggy 25 with looming thunderstorms.
Trusting but not trusting the Bureau of Meteorology’s website, we peer at the sky, analyse clouds. Our festive plans, lists, our moods hinge on whether we’re in for a scorcher, a washout or that elusive Goldilocks pearler: sunny, warm but not too hot, and no rain.
Why does our collective Christmas happiness seem to rise or fall with the temperature? You’d think living in a country where the weather swings from droughts to flash floods in the space of a Travis Head knock might’ve taught us to be a bit more laid-back.
Yeah, nah. It’s as if Australia’s festive vibe – is sanity too strong a word? – depends on whether we can set the table outside.
While those in the northern hemisphere are glugging mulled wine and thinking it’s cool to rock out to Band Aid in ugly jumpers, we’re agonising over important things like gazebo logistics. Shade or shelter? Both? Will it collapse in a southerly buster halfway through the pav?
Because those northerners are stuck with the same frosty deal every year, they’ve made peace with it. We on the other hand like to keep things spicy slash sweaty.
Not that weather quirks put a dampener on traditions. It’s 41 in the shade and the Tubby Taylor splitty is barely making a dent, but you still have to push on with the hot meats, the gravy, the pudding. You still have to be in the fish market queue at dawn with half the population, praying to sweet baby Jesus the ice packs in the esky don’t give up the ghost.
The weather dictates whether backyard cricket is a goer. Too hot, nobody wants to field past the first over. Too wet, you’re indoors dodging hyped-up kids and hunting for more batteries while Uncle Jimmy commandeers the TV remote and box of After Dinner Mints.
It dictates our festive looks. Breezy sundress, or safer to commit to layers? And the kids – hard to say if they’ll stay in matching Christmas PJs or be backyard nudists, hosing each other down before the prawn cocktail.
My theory: Aussies are unhinged about Christmas weather because the whole shebang is about more than the day itself. It’s the culmination of an entire year. It’s a whole vibe. It’s family and food, laughter and memories, a side of nostalgia and a dash of existential dread over whether we’ll be sunburnt or soaked.
It’s the one thing we can’t control, and somehow that makes it the centrepiece of everything.
The funny part is that we obsess, refresh apps, fret over that forecast right up until the day. Then no matter what happens we make it work. If it’s boiling, we’ll find a fan and crack a cold one. Wet, and we’ll bring the party inside, make like Paul Kelly, put on Junior Murvin and push the tables back.
No matter the temperature, the real Christmas forecast is always the same. A little chaos, a lot of spirit and enough pragmatism to survive the next festive season.
Merry Christmas, gorgeous people! May your families be entertaining, your feasting fill your heart, your internal and external atmospheric conditions exactly what you want.
Kate Halfpenny is the founder of Bad Mother Media and a regular columnist.
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