It’s Christmas in New Zealand and the stores are bursting with silver tinsel and images of jolly Santas in Winter Wonderlands. Windows are laced with fake snow and choirs reveal that “though the snow lay round about” it was “deep and crisp and even”. Indeed the only incongruity to this merry scene is that it’s the middle of summer outside and sticky hot. On the big day itself people go swimming at the beach or sit in the shade after gorging themselves on traditional mince pies and Turkey - before settling down to watch perennial favourites like “the Snowman.” And I never realised how cute it all must seem to an outsider until I left for colder climes.

This year I’m staying with Will’s folks. I’m nervous. He’s never brought anyone home before and Will’s Granddad doesn’t know that he licks the other side of the stamp. Factor in the sodomy reflex (the natural disposition of parents to evoke the disturbing image of their son being bummed by the alien homosexual) & it’s going to be a fun fun fun family Christmas.

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