Last year, as we were driving around the neighbourhood, we noticed a banner up at the side of the road advertising Christmas Dinner at a nearby restaurant. With nothing planned for Christmas Eve, we decided to go there. And we did. It was stupendous. There was roast turkey and lamb, smoked salmon and mackerel, pasta, vegetables (including my fav, Brussel Sprouts) and a full range of desserts. Wine was offered at a special two-bottles-for-the-price-of-one, the tables were decorated and the staff were courteous, smiling and helpful. The best thing was, it was a buffet. We didn’t so much waddle, as roll, out the door at night’s end.
I know this might be construed as racist but, just as the Chinese are generally seen as being industrious, Malays can throw extremely good parties. And even though all the staff were Malay (and thus Muslim), and there were unfortunately no pork products available (ham…sigh), the entire family was made to feel extremely welcome. There was even a Santa Claus (one of the staff) handing out little presents to all the kids who attended. I doubt anyone could have done it better.
As you can imagine, after that wonderful night, we were waiting with bated breath for this year, hoping that the neighbourhood restaurant would do the same thing. What we forgot was this.
Since last year, there has been a significant influx of expats into the area. British expats, mostly. And a group of them must have approached the management of the neighbourhood restaurant because, this year, we don’t have the dinner like we had last year. Oh no, this year, we have two parties. A kids’ party and, one and a half hours later, an adults’ party.
This seems to be a peculiarly British and Australian thing, this division of…well, everything at a social event. (The Americans, from the Californian parties we attended, seem generally, thankfully, free of this kind of WTFery.) If there are Australians at a barbie, they’ll automatically divide into the men’s group and the women’s group, with a no-go area in between. (And, if you’re male and more interested in women, and thus cross the invisible line to go talk to said women, you’ll be regarded as a “poofter”, which is incredibly ironic as “poofter” is a derogatory term for a gay. If you’re a woman and more interested in talking to the men, well of course you’re a “slut”.)
If you socialise with a bunch of Poms, they’ll inevitably throw an event where the kids have to disappear for hours on end while the adults have some fun. What’s interesting about this is that the Poms won’t organise an alternative to occupy the kids that aren’t supposed to be there, they’re just not supposed to be there, and it appears to be perfectly okay if their (and your) children are walking the streets or panhandling or something, as long as no carousing adult catches sight of one.
Why I’m particularly bemused this year is that, of all the holidays of all the seasons of all of the year, you’d really expect CHRISTMAS to be a family event, wouldn’t you? I can understand a no-children rule at, say, a Valentine’s Day dinner or New Year’s Eve bash (and we’ve not attended more than a decades’ worth of said parties due to our little petals) but CHRISTMAS???? Good freakin’ grief!
So there you go, another promising event shot to hell, and it’s all thanks to the British. Even when their colonising armies went home, their mentality obviously didn’t.
