A Californian Christmas

Tradition, tradition, tradition has been my mantra at Christmas for the past 30 years. The whole day was meticulously planned, stockings, church, luncheon, crackers, pudding, The Queen’s Speech, walk the dog, wash up and make tea, presents (in order of age, youngest to oldest) and collapse, either with a board game or Downton Abbey, according to how much energy we had left. Suggestions that we could change the tree decorations or have presents in a different corner of the drawing room were met with outcry, and the only variation that was allowed was whether we went to Midnight Mass or morning service. That depended on the vicar – we were put off one vicar forever once when she preached about how the animals gave gifts to the Christ Child, and said that the fox brought ‘cunning’. Not exactly a commendable quality for the Son of God! Thereafter, we avoided her, and opted for more heartwarming fare.

Hitherto, my usual Christmas Day

All this came to an end forever last year when we finally sold the family home and left the high, steep hill with the magnificent views and huge garden that had become too much to care for. This year, my parents are camped in a tiny cottage while they renovate a town house, my sister is comfortably ensconced in London and I am in California. Not quite the place I would have predicted for me, for whom Christmas Day means snow and Boxing Day means hunting, but I intended to embrace every American-flavoured moment.

The incomparable view from our old home

Our whippet, Eddie, enjoying the snow in the orchard

Christmas began in fine, traditional style, however, with Midnight Mass at Grace Cathedral. This glorious cathedral, set atop Nob Hill on the other side of Huntington Square to the palatial Fairmont Hotel, is modeled on Notre Dame in Paris and its splendid great doors (currently being restored) are copies of Ghiberti’s gilded Gates of Paradise on the Baptistry in Florence. Its soaring interior is fluttering with colour at present, with 20 miles of ribbon hanging from its vaulted roof in Graced with Light, an installation by Anne Patterson created as part of the 100 Years of Music celebrations that mark the anniversary of the foundation of the Choir of Men & Boys. The choir in question was in fine voice on Christmas Eve, as was the magnificent Æolian-Skinner organ and the orchestra under the aegis of conductor Canon Benjamin Bachmann. The music of the Prelude was succeeded by my favourite carol, O, Come all ye Faithful and the 2,200 strong congregation gave due credit to the wonderful words. It was an uplifting service, with all the ceremonial niceties performed to a turn, and a lovely ‘homily’, as the address is called here, from the Dean, the Very Rev. Dr Jane Shaw, on the subject of music and its power for good. I felt I could almost have been back in Worcester Cathedral at home, but for the American accents and the odd verse of a carol that was slightly different – occasionally, a line was altered and I did a double take at the order of service. But the joyful atmosphere was the same, and I felt Christmas had truly arrived.

Grace Cathedral from my privileged seat in the Quire, 

courtesy of my great friend, verger Charles Shipley

Full of comfort and joy: me and my friend Shannon

I spent Christmas itself staying in a friend’s house while he was away, and felt a little glum at the prospect of waking up on my own with no stocking. But I needn’t have feared – on hearing that I was to be alone, a great friend presented me with my very own stocking at Midnight Mass, which turned out to be full of goodies from England. Skype condescended to work perfectly, so I was able to watch my family open their presents and share all our experiences just as if we were together, and it was soon time for a walk in Buena Vista Park with Chad Jones, one half of my Christmas dinner hosts and author of Theater Dogs, a blog about Bay Area theatre, and his beautiful dog Fanny. After so many years in the countryside, it did seem strange to be in a city on Christmas Day and seeing other people (not to mention smelling waves of marijuana smoke in the park), but very sociable. 

Looking towards the Golden Gate Bridge - not a bad view for December 25

Me with Chad and the adorable Fanny

A superb dinner of roast beef, done to a turn by host Todd Stein and carved in enormous slices that none of us had any difficulty finishing, was followed by a stroll, in fact, an amble, to a nearby house that had been imaginatively, and relatively tastefully, decorated for the season, complete with skiing Santa Claus. Before the pudding (cheesecake, lemon slices and pear and apple crumble), I introduced everyone to the fine old tradition of crackers. Astonishingly, none of the assembled company had ever experienced the delight of paper hats, terrible jokes and strange plastic trinkets. I’m not entirely sure they’ve been converted to them, but ancient conundrums such as ‘Why did the tomato blush? Because he saw the salad dressing’ did raise a few chuckles. Back home, sated on the sofa, I watched The Queen’s Speech, thus ending a very memorable day.

Making an effort for the season!

Me with my wonderful hosts, 

theatre critic Chad Jones and chef extraordinaire Todd Stein

Hitherto, Boxing Day has always been spent hunting, but this year I had to be content with the alternative tradition – a Big Walk. On a sparkling clear day, I climbed to the top of Twin Peaks, the highest point in San Francisco, and gazed out at a view that encompassed the whole of the Bay, the glittering towers of the Financial District, the spear of Market Street thrusting towards the Ferry Building, the rich red of the Golden Gate Bridge and the blue Pacific Ocean with the Farallon Islands, California’s Galapagos, on the horizon. The Sutro Tower radio mast atop the Twin Peaks is frequently shrouded in fog, but no wisp blurred the view that day, and I sat writing my diary and basking in warm sunshine until the shadows grew long.

The Sutro Tower, free from even a hint of fog

A certain red-painted bridge from Twin Peaks

The day ended with a homely flavour – a full English Christmas dinner with turkey, roast potatoes, Brussels sprouts, proper gravy and all the trimming with friends of mine from the cathedral, one of whom, Lesley Hay, a newly arrived canon, is British, and a superb cook. She had preached on Christmas Day itself, to a record congregation of 1,000 people. Back in England, she worked with Simon Hart at the Countryside Alliance, so you can imagine that we have plenty in common! Proper Christmas pudding and brandy butter crowned a superb meal, and it was wonderful to smell the unmistakeable aroma of basted turkey and chestnut stuffing. The lights atop the Golden Gate Bridge, glimpsed from the windows, were a twinkling reminder that I was in the glorious city of San Francisco, the setting for a truly wonderful Christmas 2013.