Christmas Day ended up being a delightfully low-key event with my mother in Queensland. My husband had come down with my feeling of cruddiness, so he spent most of the day in bed after we opened our presents. My stepfather was spending 45 minutes out of every hour face down, in an effort to re-attach a wayward retina. It was a hot day, the pool was lovely and I had books to read and dogs to cuddle.
Then in the evening, it was cool enough for a cooked meal. My mother produced a succulent stuffed turkey breast with some little potatoes and vegetables, then lovely cheese, coconut cream and kaffir lime pannacotta, and some excellent wines.
Paul had his usual polite bite of the dessert before focussing on the cheese. Which left an almost whole pannacotta for me to have for breakfast the following day, with a gorgeous ripe mango cheek cut into cubes. A taste of tropical heaven.