Christmas Days in Sweden

True to Swedish tradition, Santa did come knocking at the door bearing gifts on the 24th December. He slowly entered the room and looked around .... my children's eyes wide with expectation. "Are there any good girls and boys here?" he boomed with a chuckle.

Now, it must be told that my children had already met the "real" Santa, the previous weekend. Shortly before Christmas we took them into the city. We had planned a Christmas shopping spree and a tour of the city to see the giant Christmas trees, Santa's cottage, a ride on the vintage carousel in the main square...you get the picture. As we started weaving our way through the hundreds of other Christmas shoppers, it quickly became clear that this had to be an excursion for fun only, and forget the Christmas shopping. Children are far too excited and impatient to stand at a checkout queue this time of year.

We greeted many Santas, but the one that really won our hearts was sat up high, perched on a glittering silver and purple throne, next to a mesmerizing 10 meter high Christmas tree, in the foyer of the most lavish department store in the city. "This is the real Santa mom!" whispered the children as they ran to greet him. In a steady hand Santa wrote down the boys' names in his enormous gold book, somehow already knew their age, and wrote down their requested gift. "Playstation please" said my oldest, boldly. "Is that Playstation 1, or 2?" asked Santa. Hey!, this guy really did know his toys! This big beautiful Santa had just made my children's Christmas. He offered them pepperkaka (gingerbread cookies) from his secret stash as a parting gift. "Be good!" Santa whispered as he turned to wink at me as we left.

So who was this other chap sitting in the living room of my sister-in-law's house this Christmas Eve? After 5 minutes, it didn't really matter who it was, because the gifts were distributed and children hurried to hug Santa and wave him goodbye as quickly as possible. For they had been instructed to wait until Santa was gone to tear off the wrapping.

And suddenly, there was the Playstation, just as Santa had promised.

On the 25th, it's my turn to celebrate in my true British style (with a few American dishes thrown in for good measure). Having eaten a Swedish feast the evening before, somehow I still had room for a full-blown traditional Christmas dinner with my family and the in-laws. The cranberry sauce was my best ever and the stuffing I made from a new recipe, vanished so quickly that the plan of having cold-stuffing-turkey sandwiches on Boxing Day was soon out the window. The day continued to get busier and busier as family members came and went. Not least, they were also here to celebrate my husband's birthday this day. So the gift-unwrapping continue well into the evening. The log fire kept ablazing, the chocolates melted, and the whisky, wine and champagne disappeared.

The only thing missing was crackers. I didn't forget to buy them, I just couldn't find them here. Only one party shop in the city stocked them and unfortunately they were rather small and pathetic and were really not fit for the Christmas table. What I was after was the true luxury Marks and Sparks variety.

Next Christmas I'll have them flown over to Sweden in good time.

On a high note, I did discover an American and British food shop in the city. Coleman's horseradish sauce, Ocean Spray Cranberry Jelly, Branston pickle and lemon jelly cubes are now stacked in the refridgerator. Unfortunately, the Christmas crackers were sold out.... hey! the Swedes aren't stealing our tradition of pulling crackers and wearing silly hats are they?

Upon spotting Betty Crocker cake mixes, I breathed a sign of relief. I need never attempt to bake my own cake again. God bless Betty, for at last she has reached Swedish turf.