Jenni Murray

This week, I had a rather alarming conversation with Raymond, who’s run the favourite restaurant my friend Sally and I have frequented for decades. We’d ordered the shared rib of beef with his chips but, as he came over for a chat telling us we’d ordered the best thing on the menu, Sally said, ‘Yes, Raymond, very nice, but when will the duck be back on? Beef is nice, but duck is the best.’

‘It’s not going to be there for a long time,’ said Raymond, and I have bad news for people who love turkey for Christmas lunch. Bird flu. There won’t be much turkey or duck about.’ Sally was horrified. Having a big family, tradition dictates that everyone gathers in her sister’s house and expects a huge bird to appear from the oven to be carved by the younger generation of men.

It was, I have to admit, not a problem for me, although I feel pity for the thousands of birds suffering. Last Christmas, my smaller family of six finally admitted we’ve never really liked turkey. We opted for beef, and it felt no less celebratory than any previous year.

So, it’s beef again and overall an attempt to redefine what Christmas means to us. It won’t be an expensive presents fest, necessitating rushing around the shops. None of the pain of wrapping up and no piles of paper to be thrown away after everything has been opened.

There are no young children in the family. I certainly wouldn’t say no presents if there were because the excitement of Father Christmas is so important to them. It matters to parents and grandparents too. What is more satisfying than watching a little one get on their first bicycle and have mum and dad hold the back of the saddle through a chilly Christmas morning?

For us there are only grown-ups. In the current cost crisis, the younger members have enough worries about mortgages and bills, so why expect them to spend their hard-earned cash on us? And they don’t need us buying expensive gifts – they seem to have everything they need. What really matters at Christmas is being together, gathering everyone around the table for good food and fun. For so many of us these opportunities are rare as families so often live far apart and have few chances to catch up.

Being the older generation, there’s no shame in handing over responsibility. My elder son and his wife have a lovely house, a big kitchen and ample room. What’s more, he and his brother are far better cooks than me and their father.

I shan’t then be cancelling Christmas, merely remembering what it’s really all about: peace and goodwill for all. There are certain traditions I shan’t be turning my back on. It won’t be as glitzy as in my Woman’s Hour days when I hung on every word uttered by Delia Smith or Mary Berry even though I never quite managed to match their talents with a cake or Christmas pud. I shall, though, be the one to provide a Christmas cake and a nutty, boozy pudding. I’m not ashamed to say I’ll be relying on the skills of one St Michael. Why not be grateful for M&S when you simply can’t match them?

Rum sauce for the pudding is the one item I shall insist upon making. I learned the method from my grandfather. A perfect white sauce with butter, flour and milk and, at the end, a generous glug of best-quality rum. I can hear him still laughing and saying, ‘Oops. My hand slipped’ as rather more rum than he’d intended slid in.

Some traditions must never change, although it’ll be odd gathering for a King’s speech. Then there’s the Christmas tree. Non-negotiable. White lights and no arguments please about whether or not we should try coloured ones. No, white lights, white baubles we’ve had forever and my Skinny Lizzie fairy on top. It lights the season during the darkest days and cheers us all up. So, that’s us. I wish everyone a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

Subscribe today for just £34.95 for 12 issues...

Subscribe today and save 51%