Christmas Eve at the Liquor Store

 1977, Vancover, Canada.

Do you know how thrilling this is for a girl from Down Under. At Christmas we swelter under beach umbrellas, flies buzzing around our barbequed prawns, waiting for our lunch to digest so we can dive back into the pounding surf. 

In Vancouver, snow capped mountains keep watch over the city, sending flurries of white powder into the streets below, softening everything into a welcome silence.

Lou and I stand outside the liquor store, rugged up in grey wool ponchos and colourful beanies, fingerless gloves and waterproof boots. Lou has her mandolin, I have my bongoes as we beat out songs of suffering, of women's rights, gay rights, children's rights, squatters rights, of rape, injustice, of love, of freedom.

The drunks don't care what our songs are about. We could be singing about land rights for cockroaches and they would still tip us generously. Everyone is in a good mood, it's Christmas, Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all Men, and ahem, women. 

We have our own bottle of Tia Maria in a brown paper bag to keep us warm. Snow flakes land gently on our ponchos, on our beanies, in our hair. I lick my face to taste them. They are sweet, fresh, cold. They taste like a mountain stream. 

I am so happy in this moment, happy as I will ever be. To have a white Christmas! This is every aussie girl's dream. It's my Singing in the Rain moment. If I wasn't already singing I would be singing and dancing in the snow.

Someone famous comes by, says hi. We know her, it's Ferron, she's a singer, songwriter, great musician. She's going to the liqour store too. We've hung out with her once or twice somewhere in a cosy upstairs room. She is very laid back, good fun and incredibly sexy don't you think? Everything about her  epitomises the androgenous power and beauty of the women of this era. 

After our gig we will go back to Lou's place and drink mulled wine. I will serve dark plum pudding with thick yellow custard. I will regale her and who ever else is present with tales of Christmases past. 

Of kangaroos pulling Santa's sleigh up the main street and into the pub. Blokes fighting their way out of paper bags. Kids running round the back yard squirting each other with garden hoses. Family rows and afternoon naps. The smell of Johnson's talcum powder (snow) and pine branches cut fresh from the plantation forest. Boxing day leftovers and the low key reasuring murmuring of the cricket commentary in the background, ah the cricket!

 More about Ferron plus great you tube clip

 

(c) Jan Cornall