Meanwhile, back in Aus, they were celebrating a white Christmas...

Yes, really!

After weeks of fighting bushfires, which burned out a million hectares (that's 10,000 square kilometres, or an area almost the size of Northern Ireland), the valiant lads and lasses of the CFA finally caught a lucky break. Despite weeks without rain, come Christmas day the temperature plummetted, the clouds rolled in, thunderstorms dumped small floods on the fire fronts. And at Mt Buller, it SNOWED!

Orphans Christmas

Bugger the turkey - for our first Christmas in the UK, Ants and I went in search of traditional English fare... roast venison and pheasant. We found both at Oxford's covered market, a curious blend of overpriced tourist shops and fresh meat, seafood, deli goods and organic veg.

I've decided that the English really don't know how to cook any more. The market was almost empty two days before Christmas - but the readymade meals section at Sainsbury's was teeming with shoppers, as were the gourmet 'just heat and serve' aisles at Marks and Sparks. Sad really, but it made our shopping easier.

Christmas morning dawned in a haze, brought on by a late night at the Killingworth Castle Hotel, where friends of ours had a gig the night before, followed by carolling at the Half Moon, our local, where happy punters were falling over themselves to keep us plied with pints and scampi fries.

Eventually we gathered our other 'orphan' mates (people also spending Christmas away from family who live in farflung reaches of the world) Lynne and Lizzy, and fired up our roast. Preceeded by Ants' homemade parsnip and chestnut soup plus to-die-for smoked Scottish salmon (with juniper) and adorned with all the trimmings that a roast SHOULD have, lunch was followed by a nap and several lazy hours before we could even contemplate our christmas pudding.

Black and white movies and some impromptu music (Lizzy's melodion and fiddle, Ants on drum and me faffing about with tin whistle) made it one of the most laid back Christmases ever... yay.

On the eve of solstice...

As we approach the shortest day, I have a whole new appreciation of why ancient folk so marked the turning of the seasons. After the long days of summer, Britain’s long nights must have surely seemed like the end of the world. With still two days until the solstice, it’s not fully light in the mornings until I reach Oxford’s main street to change buses (around 8am), and if the day is cloudy, it can be fully dark again by 3.30pm.

The upside is that I get to see some fabulous sunrises as my morning bus makes its way past bare fields on the way into town. Yesterday was just such a one – all rosy pink light, with orange tinted clouds streaking a mauve sky. The sun, when it finally rose, was a glowing golden ball and even standing outside, watching it rise over the horizon made me feel warmer. Of course, it didn’t last. It’s now 2pm and the mist that came down at 3 o’clock yesterday still shrouds the carpark outside work. It’s ghostly to drive through, especially now that the trees have lost all their leaves, and their spindly limbs poke through the grey. It’ll be dark in an hour, I reckon. Oh, and the mercury has just peaked for the day… at -3 degrees C.

Melbourne, sweltering in 40oC plus and cloaked in bushfire smoke from fires raging along a 250 kilometre front, seem a long way off indeed….

Party Frocks

The office christmas party turned out to be a black tie do. Fine food, abundant wine and a B&B upstairs. Needless to say, we didn't look quite this glam by 3am...

...And live at 'the X'

Our third gig in a week was a benefit for Amnesty, held at the recently refurbed Exeter Hall in Cowley, organised by a friend of ours. We humbly shared the bill with some of Oxford's most legendary musical talent, including JJ Soul and Mick Henry.

We managed to get through without any major stuffups - actually, we thought we kinda nailed a few things, and one friend, not normally given to sentiment, says we almost made her cry! (Thanks Sal - I think!)




I could get used to this gigging caper...

Joie de Vivre in gay Paree

After our adventures at the General Elliott, I'm sure it'll be no surprise that we slept on the bus to London, and on the train from Waterloo to Paris. The Eurostar takes less than 3 hours door to door, and drops one right in the middle of Paris, at Gare du Nord.

On arrival, I forgot to tell Ants about the gypsies - folk who swarm around the entrance to the station, pestering unsuspecting smokers with mulit-lingual requests for money. I walked straight into them on my first trip here, 11 years ago and, dying for a smoke after 3 hrs on the train, so did Anthony.

Having evaded them without giving away any of our change, we made our way by Metro (the Paris underground) to Montparnasse, a hip cafe district south of the Seine, where we'd found a very cosy little hotel at a stunning price, then headed to the Right Bank to explore.

Paris is stunning, and I fell in love twice this weekend - first with this beautiful city that never seems to sleep, and second with Ants (all over again), as we traipsed through parks and along boulevardes, in and out of cafes and alongside the Seine. Paris truly is a city that never closes - the Champs Elysees was still in full swing at 7pm on a Sunday night - shops open, with throngs of shoppers - adults and kiddies alike - and we scaled the Eiffel Tower (actually, you take a lift) at 10pm. The cafe that we found for supper didn't even begin to get busy until well after 11pm, and the fellow serving us our plates of bread, cheese and saucisson seemed to really appreciate that, although he gave in and helped us order in English, we persisted in trying to ask for things in French.

By far the best value holiday trick we've uncovered on our travels so far is that, on the first Sunday of every month, most of Paris is FREE. The Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, and countless other places that normally charge up to 7 euros (about $A12) each. And in December, even the crowds at the Louvre are manageable. Ants was delighted to find the Mona Lisa (she smiled at him!) although he was peeved that Venus de Milo refused to give him a hug... After all that, paying 11 euro to climb the Eiffel Tower didn't feel to bad - it was our only admission fee for the day! And Paris by night (we went up around 10pm) was a sight to behold...

Monday morning saw us sleep late, wandering down to the famous Les Deux Magots cafe, near St Germain de Pres, renowned for its patronage by Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, Oscar Wilde, Ernest Hemingway and a host of others. The service was impeccable, the food simple but oh so stylish and tasty... Ants platter of rare beef and my hot chocolate were clear highlights!

Another highlight of our day was the awesome Musee du Moyen Age, situated in the remains of the 12th century Cluny Abbey, which is itself built on top of ruined Roman Baths. Oh the swords, the chain mail, the tapestries.... We then had just enough time to wander over to the Ile de la Cite and Notre Dame, (to light a candle for Mikko and send a message of peace to the world on behalf of Anthony's new nephew, Lachlan), visit a patisserie and collect souvenirs (a tshirt from our fave cafe for Ants, and a jaunty hat for me) before it was time to board the train home.

I'm so proud of my fella - he coped amazingly with his first taste of a non-English speaking country, which can be exhausting. We've come back hungry for more... time to start saving the pennies.

Live at the 'General'...

The worldwide debut of 'antipodean folk duo... Eclipse!' came sooner than we thought.

Here we are at the General Elliott hotel in South Hinksey, on December 1. Our mate JT is a legend for asking us to join him and our friends Alan and Julie (from a stylish 5 piece outfit called Opaque) at this folk night as part of the pub's beer festival. We played for about 45 minutes, and apart for a lyrical screwup invovling smoking a horse (yes, it was Star of the County Down!), and some bollocks in the Foggy Dew, we were pleased. We were utterly stoked that so many of our Oxford music mates came down and John the publican - or 'landlord' as they're known here - seemed to take a shine to us, asking us to please come back for a gig sometime. Certainly Ants took a shine to the 15 or so festival ales they had on tap...

The following night it was our turn to lend moral support, and a guest vocal or two, when Strange Vintage took the stage... although I wished we'd indulged in a little less Dutch Courage when the time came to haul ourselves out of bed to get a bus to London and a train to Paris... more on THAT adventure soon!