.... in Darwin this week. With four others, we make up the skeleton staff at the station in the days leading up to Christmas. We're embracing late starts, long laksa lunch breaks and early knock-offs to walk on the beach.
The streets seem quite deserted also. Most people I know have gone south for the festive season. The usually packed car park is half empty and once-humming cafes are closed.
Neighbours in my apartment building have left also.
A guy at work who has been here for 30 years reckons there used to be a time when 50% of the population left at this time of the year. He describes walking down the main street and not seeing a soul (I imagine tumbleweed blowing by).
The plan is for an orphan's Christmas this year. For lowly orphans, we have lots of options. We'll join some friends on the foreshore for oysters and champagne in the morning, then head home and open presents, listen to music and play cards, maybe have a nap, then at around 3pm visit a friend who has invited us poor things into her home to eat ham, mango and prawns and lie in the pool for a few hours. Then off to another bash for Christmas dinner with a motley crew of random individuals. I'm bringing rice paper rolls and red wine.
My family has sent a care package of goodies to keep me warm over the season. There are presents and cards, plus grandma has continued the divine tradition of making my favourite Christmas treat, home-made rum balls which I will gobble up over the next few days. I can't wait.
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