Day 14 – Plymouth – Charleton Hawthorne, Christmas Day

Awoke fairly early and swapped pressies over breakfast. Got an amazingly compressed  travel towel from cousin R.

Then it was time to pack up the car and hit the road. Things were a little cosy, as the four of us and luggage and pressies were in the Tiguan, but not unpleasantly so. We took a slight detour via the site of one of the old forts of Plymouth, where we took in the fine panorama of the town, Devonport, the Channel and the wonderful green inland.

Back on the road we headed for Dorset, being wary of any Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstalls stopped alone the road searching for roadkill. Hugh may have been fishing instead as we didn’t spot him. Through a combination of sat-nav and Great Aunt J we negotiated both motorways and some of those wonderful English laneways that always look so wonderful on the telly, but when you actually have to drive along them you’re doing 40 miles per hour along a road barely wide enough for two cars, with a stone wall on one side and 500 years of hedge on the other, and more often than not a blind corner ahead. L drove this stretch wonderfully.

We arrived at Charleton Hawthorne without mishap. CH is a typical small English village, lots of lovely old houses, a small store, a pub. L’s “cousins” (I’m not quite sure of the actual family relationship on this one, so cousin is easiest) live next door to the pub. We arrived to some fanfare and a mass greeting of cousins — of which there were many. Sneezy, Bashful, Doc, Dancer and Prancer, Doner and Blitzen, Kili and Fili, Merry and Pippin, Huey, Dewey and Louis (not real names of course, and we didn’t secretly make up names for them, there were just so many that it took some time before we could confidently name all of them).

The car was unloaded in a flash of teamwork, and before we knew it we had drinks pressed into our hands and more food waved in front of us. Then we were seated on a very long table, in front of the wonderful Aga, and fed mounds of turkey, ham, potatoes, sprouts, bacon-wrapped sausages, leeks in cheese sauce, bread sauce, gravy, food, food and more food, all of it incredibly wonderful. One of the other cousins, charged with bringing the wine, produced a couple of bottles of the 2004 Chateau Musar, that sumptuous Lebanese red wine that is really an amazing drop. Went very well with the feast.

At 3pm we had all finished eating and it was time to watch the Queen’s Christmas speech. Felt a little teary and chuffed to be in England watching this, even if it was pre-recorded. Was quite amusing as she spoke about Australia, leading to a big cheer from all, and Ireland, where P of the fabulous Chateau Musar hails from, and another big cheer. It was a special, magical moment, totally unexpected.

Once the warm glow subsided, it was back into the dining kitchen for pudding. A huge mountain of pudding, in fact. Will lashings of brandy butter and brandy cream. I felt thoroughly lashed by this stage.

Then back into the lounge to open presents. We’d brought along a few generic souvenirs and were pleasantly surprised when they had gifts for us. For the most part, it was just the joy of watching children of all ages unwrap their gifts. It’s easy to be cynical about Christmas, but sometimes it takes moments like these to really show what giving, receiving, and joy to the world is all about. There was a mix of bought and hand made gifts, and the whole thing was just very pleasant.

We adjourned to the thatched gazebo at the back of the hosue to sit around the fire and drink Cloudy Bay Pelorus, before a wonderful mezze spread for supper, with a couple of French red wines. Then bed, stuffed and pleasantly buzzed by the wonderful day.