Editor considers a luxury festive getaway, and decides to stay at home
A couple of years ago, two of my girlfriends, finding themselves simultaneously unencumbered by menfolk, took off to a luxury hotel in Mexico with the express purpose of avoiding Christmas at home. There, they had a wonderful fortnight of sun, spirited adventure and hot and cold running servants, free of irritating relatives and roast turkey.
Their Christmas lunch was a luxurious seafood platter served poolside with a vat of Champagne. They enjoyed it with a couple from Brighton named Gary and Martin, who they met on the first night. They provided friendship and raucous laughter throughout the holiday and have been firm Christmas holidaying friends ever since.
On their return after New Year, tanned and glowing with good health, they declared their Mexican adventure the best Christmas ever and promptly booked another luxury break for the following year, which they similarly enjoyed. This year, they are off again, this time to the Alps, where they will feast on fondue and handsome ski instructors.
Other friends who, like me, are tied to their kitchen at Christmas by familial responsibilities, are consumed with envy, yet the idea of a luxury escape without family at this time of year fills me with horror. I don’t want to go anywhere but my own home, which I will fill with family, friends and food. The more time I get to spend in the kitchen preparing to feed the 5,000, the happier I will be. You can keep your luxury escapes, the Christmas turkey and I will be fine right here…