For some reason Christmas reminds me of a play by Jean-Paul Sartre called ‘Huis Clos’, named after the French equivalent of an in camera trial or closed courtroom. It’s about three people who have died, locked together awaiting judgement in a crowded room for eternity. It’s the origin of Sartre’s famous line ‘hell is other people’.
The world suddenly lurches to a haltBut it’s not the idea of hell that Christmas reminds me of (though possibly I could say that about a few distant Christmases in my past – it’s true that Christmas can be one of the most stressful times of the year). It’s the fact that at Christmas, especially on Boxing Day, the world suddenly lurches to a halt and stops still at the doorway of the approaching year.
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It’s how it used to be on long haul flights, before wi-fi became widespread, when suddenly you were (thankfully) disconnected from the rest of the world.
‘At Christmas, especially on Boxing Day, the world suddenly lurches to a halt and stops still at the doorway of the approaching year. It’s how it used to be on long haul flights, before wi-fi became widespread, when suddenly you were (thankfully) disconnected from the rest of the world.’
It’s a moment to reflect about all the things you did badly during the year, to hope you might get to watch Sam Neill in ‘Hunt for the Wilderpeople’ (for the fifth time) and to wonder if the remaining boxes of fruit mince tarts will last you until the hot cross buns appear – in February. Yep big questions and little answers.
The Feast of StephenUsually we celebrate the Feast of Stephen at this time of year. Many years ago I was pondering the words ‘Good King Wencelaus looked out on the Feast of Stephen’ in the the well-known Christmas carol and thought ‘when actually is the Feast of Stephen?’ I discovered it was Boxing Day, possibly my favourite day of the year, when the hectic rush to Christmas halts abruptly.
We’ve been celebrating the day ever since. However, this year it must have slipped past while we weren’t looking. Oh, well, I’ll have to celebrate it twice next year.
Bushfire season down underBeing Australia it’s bushfire season (what the Americans far more evocatively and accurately call wildfires). Even though I have only a terrace garden four stories up, I’m clearing the undergrowth in sympathy with those far below facing fast-travelling fires, after months of floods. Luckily global warming doesn’t exist or it could be even worse!
Having grown up in Adelaide I have had a taste already of how bad it can get when things heat up – now for the rest of the world to catch up.
© Stephen Cassidy 2025
See also
Walking with ghosts
‘Increasingly people I have known for a long time seem to be dying. In fact my generation is steadily starting to disappear. Who is replacing them? We shuffle along in a world that is unravelling, a world – that for both good and bad – our generation gave birth to. We are teetering in a strange balance between building on the achievements of the past and desperately trying to dismantle them. In many countries, the current generation is poorer than the previous one, upending generations of dreams by working class parents and migrants for a better life for their children. In this time of upheaval – both welcome and unwelcome – creativity is needed like never before’, Walking with ghosts.
On the rails again – a trip about the past and the futureI'm on the road again – well, on the rails again. On Monday I caught the slow train from Canberra to Sydney, and today I’ve woken up to a third morning in Surry Hills. I’m enjoying the days in Sydney – after all, I did live here for twelve and a half years. I’m mainly here to see the Yolngu Power exhibition at the Art Gallery of NSW, which finishes next week, but I’m also using the trip to see to other business’,
On the rails again – a trip about the past and the future. Looking down on dire predictions‘I see the latest report on looming climate change has some pretty dire predictions – like a future of four times the length of heatwaves, up to five times as many deaths due to extreme heat, a massive drag on productivity, 1.5 million Australians at risk of coastal flooding and a potential half trillion dollar hit to property values by 20250 – and that’s just the good news’,
Looking down on dire predictions.
Marching with the Nazis – as un-Australian as it gets
'I’m still shocked by the marches and rallies around the country opposing immigration. Everyone involved says mass immigration, but it’s clear in practice they mean most immigration – and definitely all immigration by people who aren’t white, or as I like to say, ‘pink’. Here I am travelling through my own homeland once again and, at times, it seems like a foreign country – not because of immigrants but because of those who have grown up here. Those taking part in these marches probably have genuine grievances, but they have picked the wrong target to blame and, in the process, have been steered into becoming in effect neo-Nazi fellow travellers. We are (almost) all immigrants here, only just starting to genuinely come to grips with this country', Marching with the Nazis – as un-Australian as it gets.
Self-imposed lockdown – hanging around home
'For all their faults and disadvantages there were some positive sides to the pandemic lockdowns. As I often say, ‘good times’ – maybe my memory isn’t what it was. I realise that I planned and prepared for so long to move to an apartment and now I am here I keep discovering more and more things I like about it. I could stay home and read and write and never leave it, just popping down to the shops when I need supplies – perhaps it’s a case of self-imposed lockdown', Self-imposed lockdown.
Essen, trinken, tanzen – aber nicht rauchen‘From time to time my posts on ‘travelling light’ include references to restaurants we have eaten at or enjoyable places we have stayed. However, most of my regular writing about food, produce, restaurants and places we have stayed is on one of my blogs,
tableland, which I describe as: ‘Food and cooking land to table – the daily routine of living in the high country, on the edge of the vast Pacific, just up from Sydney, just down from Mount Kosciuszko’,
Essen, trinken, tanzen – aber nicht rauchen.
Cooking minestrone in an art gallery – pineapple fruit cake, hot soup and art on a cold day‘In winter my mind turns to food, but since it is never turned away from art, cooking and looking manage to fill in the cooler months – or maybe that’s all months. I haven’t made hand-made pasta for a while but I have made sushi and sashimi – though only once in recent memory – as I resurrect all my food traditions. Cooking, eating and cruising around art exhibitions – that’s winter for me’,
Cooking minestrone in an art gallery - pineapple fruit cake, hot soup and art on a cold day
Winter markets in a creative city
'The winter we had to have (and could have hoped for) finally arrived on the Southern Tablelands. We have gone back to going to the Farmers Market every week. To add to the winter sun good news arrived. For over ten years we worked to have Canberra listed as a UNESCO Creative City of Design, part of a global network of creative cities. Finally the ACT Government announced that it intended to take the bid forward – and that it had allocated funding for it, the true sign of a government being serious. It’s always a pleasure to help initiate a worthwhile endeavour, but even more of a pleasure to look back ten years later and see that it has been a roaring success in more ways than one', Winter markets in a creative city.
Speaking in tongues
‘Where I live a statue of French maritime hero, La Pérouse, looks out over the suburb as though to say: this, too, could have been France. For a period it seemed everyone who went to school in Australia studied French. Perhaps it was a belated attempt to acknowledge how much better everything would have been if the French had got here first. As I like to say whenever I’m in France, ‘j’ai étudié le Français pendant six ans à l’école’ and I would like to have had more opportunity to use that knowledge',
Speaking in tongues.
Looking down on birds
'While the world unravels and some gleefully repeat the mistakes of the past, life goes on in gardens everywhere. I remember that in the Roman Empire, if a change of regime occurred, soldiers, recognising that they were also farmers, would often retire for a time to their farm - until circumstances and duty called them back. Some wit commented that what is happening now is like the fall of the Roman Empire, but with wi-fi',
Looking down on birds.
Back in the days when we travelled
'Back in the days when we travelled, I used to post news of my trips to Facebook, so my friends could follow my exploits overseas. For a long time it has been apparent that Facebook has issues, so back in 2019 I set up this blog 'Travelling light' to replace my Facebook posts. However, in the end I decided to stay with Facebook, so this blog was never used',
Back in the days when we travelled.
Travelling light by being still
'As I've said repeatedly, I don't have any problem with flying, it's landing and taking off I don't like – and all the logistics in-between. I have few problems with lounging around for hours and on a flight, you get to sit still while people bring you food and drink. How much better does it get?',
Travelling light by being still.
Abandoning the world of work
'When I left full-time work over ten years ago, I was asked what I intended to do. Once I no longer had distractions, like work – fun though it was at the time – it was clear that I would definitely have some time on my hands. I replied that I planned to keep up with my friends and to travel – when I wasn't gardening, cooking, reading or writing. It sounded like a fine plan at the time and as things panned out, it WAS a fine plan', Abandoning the world of work.