Wheaton’s Way: Christmas traditions

Some of the team at Compass Media recently decided to ask staff about their Christmas traditions.

It got me thinking about my family and how we’ve celebrated over the years.

Although my sister and I were born in the UK, I couldn’t tell you what we did there because I – the elder – was only 2 years old when we moved to Ireland.

We spent four glorious years in Dunmore East, an idyllic fishing village on the southeast coast. I don’t really recall Christmases there either (this column is going so well). I was probably concentrating on my future Irish dancing career, taught by the nuns at my convent school.

Did you see me in ‘Riverdance’? There’s the answer to the question I know you’re dying to ask.

We definitely would have gone to mass every 25 Dec., and as the community there was small and neighbourly – just like Cayman – I’m sure there would have been a host of festive celebrations on the calendar.

Really, for us as kids, our first proper memories of Santa and the like would have started when we moved here in August 1975.

Like so many local children, we quickly became well-attuned to Jolly Old Saint Nick’s candy-throwing schedule. He used to move around the island on a flatbed truck, pitching handfuls of sweets as he went. We stood out near the road, like cheetahs at a watering hole on the Serengeti, waiting to pounce on every Brach’s delight that came our way.

We’d also head to the rugby club for their annual party. I can’t remember if Santa was driven there or arrived on a riding mower, but he’d show up without fail. The man (sorry, elf) clearly didn’t let the fact that his reindeer weren’t keen on the Caribbean temperatures stop him from delivering presents to all the children.

Before the Crighton house and the Boddens’ home on South Church Street (opposite Sunset House) there were a few businesses in town and residences we knew would have lights and decorations up every year. My mother would pile us all into the car and she’d take us on a drive past each one.

We always had to stop outside Home Gas (which used to have an office in the heart of George Town) because it had an animatronic Santa, which we’d never seen before. Remember that for your PR tests …

We’d sing Christmas carols as we went – it was always a lovely night out.

Back then, it was a fake tree or nothing – no real trees to buy. Dad would get the box out of storage and set it up. There weren’t always joyful noises emanating from the living room, as a slippery glass bauble dropped and smashed, or a bulb refused to light. We’d usually make ourselves scarce in those times of quiet reflection, until the tree stood resplendent and we could all admire it.

Although our tradition was to always have Christmas dinner as a family, in at least one of our earlier years, when we lived by the beach at Sun Sand Cottages (where Ms. Pipers and its neighbours now reside), my parents and their friends set out a table by the sand and we all ate turkey and pulled crackers in the open air. I’d like to see a bunch of British people copy that setup in wintry Brighton.

It was such a thrill, living in the Caribbean, far from the cold, wet, snowy weather of Blighty – everyone was quite happy to have a white Christmas of the sandy persuasion.

We brought our British traditions to Cayman – including my mother’s homemade pudding. Every year, after saying grace and stuffing ourselves with turkey and, well, stuffing, we’d gather around the pudding as Dad got out the legendary ladle. Brandy would be poured in, and the ladle warmed over a candle. Then he’d pour the contents over the pudding and set it alight. What followed were plates of deliciousness, a good dollop of cream on every wedge.

We still have that same recipe pudding every year (although my brother Dominic has taken over the task of making it to give my mother a break) and use the same ladle. It’s not fancy – just a metal bowl with a wooden handle – but it was one of a set that my parents got for their wedding, so it is over 50 years old. Part of the family.

As we settled into our new lives in Cayman, we also became familiar with Caymanian Christmas traditions. Backing the sand in the front yards of homes, lining pathways with shells, and mouth-watering food like Cayman-style beef, cassava cake and – of course – washing it all down with some amazing sorrel drink. Truly the taste of the holidays.

Carol Winker (rest in peace), one of the islands’ finest journalists, came to Cayman decades ago, as we did. She adopted many local traditions, including making up batches of sorrel over the holidays. Like Tom Cruise and his annual gift list of white chocolate Bundt cakes (look it up!) we always wanted to stay in Carol’s good books so she might save us a glass or two each year.

As the islands’ population has expanded and we’ve got older, we’ve created some traditions of our own. From making sure we put particularly special baubles on the tree, to setting up the lit advent calendars and nativity scene in the living room, we don’t stray too far from the formula.

We like to pop by the Gingerbread Tea at The Ritz-Carlton and wander around Heroes Square in town when it’s quiet to admire the lights and tree.

We very rarely miss the Crighton House and the Boddens’ – they never lose their magic, no matter what age we are.

It’s also tradition for me to look at said displays and announce, “Right! Next year, I’m doing the same at our house!” and then never follow through.

I’ve taken to making mulled wine because it’s blessedly simple, and I fill the cupboards with boxes of mince pies and chocolate biscuits that barely get touched.

In fact, that’s one of the most lasting traditions of all: Clearing out the cupboard of uneaten festive treats that expired a year ago.

I can’t wait!