It should also be positive and, under no circumstances, intelligent. No-one wants to engage their brain right now. We’re all cooked — I’m calling it "Fried from 25".
Since coming up with an overarching theme felt dangerously close to thinking, I landed on something far safer, my Top 10 Favourite Things About a Brighton Christmas.
1. Roaming children
If you ever drive through Brighton or Ocean View, you’ll have noticed the kids. They roam.
Fin disappears at 10am and returns an hour later with a group of mates, raids the pantry, then takes off again. Later he’ll reappear with a different crew. Occasionally he doesn’t come home at all, having successfully organised himself a sleepover: "Mum, so-and-so’s mum asked if I could stay."
In reality, he invited himself, checked with me and is now probably asking the other mum if it’s fine. I wrote the playbook.
My personal favourite was the phone call from a friend asking if I knew Fin and his mates, all of 9 years old, were down at the club playing pool. No, I did not know. Yes, please send him home. The pub is not daycare.
2. Roaming adults
It’s easy to see where the kids get it from. You can’t walk anywhere in Brighton without stopping to chat, which depending on the time of day becomes a coffee or a wine.
This summer it feels like no-one has gone away. There’s a barbecue on every other night and a standing weekly schedule that includes surf club training, paddles, drums, boys’ nights, girls’ nights, pool comps and ocean swims. It’s chaotic, slightly exhausting and exactly how summer should be.
3. Laughing at farts
Do farts ever stop being funny? Or is it just my family?
With my two brothers and their families staying, plus Fin, Alex and my dad all in the same space, it has become competitive. Loudest. Smelliest. Stealthiest. My brother Thomas specialises in stealth. You don’t know it’s happened until it’s too late.
4. Beach. Beach. Beach.
Right now the beach is empty and the waves are gnarly, but give it a day or two and we’ll be down there constantly. Sometimes more than once a day.
We’ll dodge the territorial male sea lion, jump in the mermaid pool, bump into half of Fin’s school on sunny afternoons and form impromptu beach gatherings. If the creek’s been flushed, we’ll explore on boards and jump off the bridge. It’s simple, salty, sandy bliss.
5. Cuzzies
One of my favourite things these holidays has been watching Fin and his cousins, over from Australia, play music together. They’ve got Riptide nailed on the ukulele and have turned the lounge into a full-time karaoke venue.
It’s not about us adults any more. Watching kids entertain themselves with music, drawing and the occasional bout of lawn-based sumo wrestling is peak Christmas.
It feels a little like nostalgia already, reminiscent of looking over family photo albums from when I was a kid.
6. Surf lifesaving
Joining the surf club and becoming a lifeguard has been the best thing we’ve done as a family. It is its own little community. Patrolling with people of all ages, chatting to beachgoers, high-fiving kids and helping people understand rips and conditions gives summer a bit more meaning.
It’s also been incredible watching Fin’s confidence grow, paddling out the back with the big kids, all of them hanging out way offshore, jumping off boards, catching waves and looking out for each other. It’s a proper vibe.
7. Freshly cut grass and unlimited lettuces
We’re not exactly model gardeners, so freshly cut lawns are a clear sign that summer has arrived. The anxiety of losing the vege garden to weeds subsides briefly.
Of course, the vege garden has delivered 30 lettuces all at once. A lesson for next year. Until then, I’m frantically googling "creative ways to serve lettuce" and pretending salads are exciting.
8. My conservatory
When we bought this house and I saw the conservatory, my first thought was, "Absolutely not. That’s for old folks." Turns out, I was wrong.
It’s now my favourite spot in the house. I’m writing this from here, looking out to sea, fully intending to spend summer reading, napping, writing and generally doing very little. The kids, dog and grandparents have all gravitated here too. On sunny days the doors open and meals spill on to the deck.
Yes, the glass bin is already full. I left it in the photo for authenticity.
9. Food
It wouldn’t be Christmas without food. Christmas food is freedom. Leftovers for breakfast. Ice cream for lunch. Three different meats for dinner. Every day.
We haven’t opened the ham yet, but once we do, see point 3. I may relocate to the caravan by the 26th.
10. Forgetting what day it is
Funny how much time you have to fill when work disappears — by lunchtime I’ve done everything I needed to do for the day, but still have time to get outside for a walk and swim, book and snooze, bubbles and banter, and still I’ll be in bed by 9pm!
I think it’s Tuesday today? By Boxing Day I’ll have no idea. Which explains why this column is being filed late. I kept having to close my eyes in the conservatory, helped along by the birdsong and crashing waves, and not the least from a full belly after polishing off the leftovers for lunch.
And honestly, that’s a pretty good way to end the year.
• Sarah Ramsay is chief executive of United Machinists.
