Babe stole the show – again! In a crowded field of festive co-stars, the rabbits, geese, lambs and goats were upstaged even before the main event. Rehearsals for the Christmas crèche vivante were cast aside, as angelic poses gave way to the rough and tumble of Boxing Day sales. Carrots and crackers were the initial culprit, overflowing from market bags proffered by Grandmas eager for a photo-op with their favourite littlies. Of course the signs said not to feed the animals, that the elves had already brought them fresh hay. But with a look like that from Babe, who could resist?

The market, le marché, brings everyone together, and at this time of the year especially, it is a heartfelt wish. Our Halal butcher, who we took lamingtons with the message that they do not contain gelatine or alcohol, gave us a chicken saying Joyeux noël! The fruit and veg family, with 80 year old grandpa speaking Albanian, Italian, Romanian and French, decorated our groceries with generous sprigs of fresh dates. The purveyor of the best Kalamata olives in the world welcomed a slice of (my mother’s favourite) cheesecake and slipped in a scoop of confit tomatoes. And then there’s the guy at the wineshop who gave our pudding a fire rating. The 21st of December was a day to remember.

My sister Thérèse always made the gravy at our place. There were so many rich brown bits in the bottom of the roasting pan that, as far as I know, she didn’t add any tomato sauce. In France tomato sauce is not readily available anyway, but we found some Bundaberg ginger beer at Intermarche and that could always be a stopgap. But thanks to Paul Kelly, whatever happens on Christmas Day, the hug between Angus and Joe at the end of the movie will sustain us all. As for Babe and his furry friends in the manger, treats are on the way, no-one would expect you to eat hay without gravy….