This month's "parties"

Written on Christmas Day

The only Christmas gatherings we went to this month were the unreal ones. 

From their individual living rooms, on December 7th, more than 100 CFUW-Ottawa women came to an online Holiday Party: "the most unique venue ever!" Lasting a couple of hours, the event was quite skillfully executed and very well received. Catherine acting as the MC did a particularly fine job. Alice auctioned a basket of wines and cookies for the Scholarship Fund for which the bidding went above $300. Heather entertained us with a funny story about a goldfish and Gouhar told an anecdote about black rat snakes invading her family cottage in the country. Ilse and Käti read out poems they'd written and Elizabeth, the director of the Club's choir, presented its theme song, We are the MadriGals, the singers having prerecorded this in parts to new, Covid-relevant words. In normal years, the "MadriGals" would be giving concerts at local retirement homes; just now that is out of the question. Elizabeth had some of us standing up and waving our arms about for "warm-up" exercises in the privacy of our own homes. In addition there were musical interludes from the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and children's choir (an arrangement of Pachelbel's Canon) and from a Carleton University graduate whom our Club had sponsored, Anita Pari, played Chopin's Arpeggio Étude:

I liked the moment when Hope, a Jewish member of the Club, gave us some insights into Hanukkah traditions, such as spinning a Dreydl, and then when we watched the (USA) National Children's Chorus charmingly singing about this game!

Natalie talked about her memories of Christmas in Hong Kong. Diane, who has published a 100-year history of the CFUW, read us an extract describing Club parties in the 1950s, elaborate and stylish affairs. Toward the end of the current one, Barbara told us a story of her father's recollection of wartime Christmases and and advised us to persuade the older generations of our families to tell their stories too, before those precious narratives are lost. Pat brought the party to a close with a final poem, leaving us with the message that we should approach 2021 "with a glad and hopeful heart." 

We were allotted to "breakout rooms" at one point where we were encouraged to talk to one another in groups of eight, for ten minutes. Otherwise the majority of the party-goers, me included, were passive listeners. I posted some screenshots on the Club's private Facebook page and, soon, I have to complete a report of this surprisingly happy event, for the Club's next newsletter, that I'll probably base on the first half of this blogpost.

Later that week, I hosted a special meeting of my conversation group at which each participant told the others in German of her particular memories of Christmases experienced in diverse parts of the world (Brazil, New Zealand, Germany, Switzerland, Cuba, the Netherlands, Bangkok, Helsinki, Canada).

Family parties went online as well. Yesterday we had a Zoom call with Debbie, David and Robert who were staying at a house in Eastbourne, Sussex, and then we celebrated Christmas in advance with George and company in Australia, who had already opened all their presents. Today, Christmas Day, was another marathon of phoning and video-chatting with friends and family, asking what they were all up to. My sister called from Wales before we were dressed, here; we returned her call and the video link kept breaking up, but it was so good to see one another with our respective Christmas decorations in the background. Chris spent half an hour talking to his sister too, in Grantham, Mrs Thatcher's home town. Then we had a prearranged Zoom meeting with Emma and Peter and their sons in London (whom we'd also seen on Christmas Eve) and Peter's parents and brothers in Essex. After a local phone call with Elva, who with Laurie would usually share a Christmas Dinner with us, Rob called Chris from York, while I dozed off. 

We are flagging. Chris says he doesn't have the energy to go to bed so will sleep on the settee*. He ran on his treadmill again this afternoon, and we've been for two 3km walks, under dark grey skies, along the wet pavements. There seem to be many more Christmas lights in porches and round windows, in the branches of what our city's "distinctive trees" and round the tree trunks, this year. Our neighbours on the front of Cathcart Street had a sort of in-person street party in progress with Sandra handing out cups of mulled wine from her porch. 

We enjoyed our meals today.  I enjoyed the preparing of them too. Roast turkey breast with ham and stuffing, sprouts and carrots with mushrooms and almonds, roast potatoes, cranberry sauce, gravy. We had some merlot with that. I'd baked a couple of mini Christmas cakes previously. Supper was a multi-ingredient potato salad, inspired by a German recipe for a Czech salad, and a sausage filled omelette.

Chris is moving around very slowly, saying Ow! because his legs hurt. He gave me the present of a machine that makes tap water fizzy. I shall have some now and retire to bed again.

* He did make it upstairs in the end.