Thanks to my Mum coming to England from Austria to marry my Dad our household celebrated Sankt Nikolaus on December the 5th as an exciting prelude to Christmas. In the evening we would put our Wellington boots on the windowsill and in the morning they would (if we had been good and we always had!) be overflowing with satsumas, nuts, dates, figs, chocolate and small gifts. We went off to school that morning glowing from sugar and the happiness that we alone in our school had had such a special start to the day. My Mum also told us about the St. Nikolaus events that happened in her community and yesterday I got to experience what she was talking about for the very first time. In Istanbul. St. Nikolaus with his curly beard, crozier and mitre came to the Austrian School in Karaköy into a room smelling of pine and lit with candles. In the best organised event I have seen since arriving in Turkey (I am sure it would take these women less than a week to sort out the 9 separate desks that need to be visited to collect a parcel from customs, the apathetic service at the post office and the illogical dawdle that is a residence permit application) our German, Turkish and English speaking St Nikolaus consulted his big red book to tell each child about their successes and some area that might require a little work. Matti was very surprised that St. Nikolaus seemed to know him so well and admitted that there may be some truth in him needing to be a bit more patient! I wished I had used the opportunity to scare Anton into letting me cut his nails without the neighbours suspecting torture, but anyway all he remembered from the very serious conversation was that St. Nikolaus was very proud of him putting things in the bin. Then our much much more good than naughty boys were given bags of goodies decorated with real pine and tied with red ribbons and we eventually meandered home to light the second candle on our advent wreath. I just wish my Mum could have skipped over the oceans to be with us.

This is Anton's first year of that deliciously painful anticipation lucky children have of Christmas. He remembers last year well (no snow) but thanks to Peppa Pig and Charlie and Lola is waiting for snowflakes to herald the arrival of Father Christmas. Helping children mark the passing of advent days has become a huge industry but the tradition I like best is the weekly lighting, (one, two, three, four, CHRISTMAS!!) of candles on an advent wreath. My Dad always makes a good one. Living in a country where those of us celebrating Christmas are a very small minority these traditions are also reminders of memories shared with people faraway. I was really happy when a friend told me that the Austrian Church in Karaköy were making wreaths for charity, and today we went to pick ours up. Because it was a beautiful day we decided to take the wreath on a short tour of the city and so, like Amelie's Gnome, it had the chance to be snapped in various famous locations! When we finally got it home the scent of cinnamon and oranges reminded us that it was high time we started mulling wine. So we did.