I'm sure there have been white Christmases during my lifetime but not many where we have actually woken to snow on the ground on Christmas Day. I do remember one year where we were at my sister's house on Boxing Day. It must have been in about 1995 or so as my son had taken all his new toys over there and the boot of our car was crammed full of stuff that both children couldn't bear to leave at home. The snow started falling once we had got to her house and continued all day. We left for home early evening as we knew that the journey which normally took 25 minutes was going to take much longer. Our route was mainly country roads and there was bound to be little traffic around to help melt the snow on the roads.
We started our crawl home, driving into the large snowflakes. Caught in the headlights they were mesmerising and the drive was hazardous to say the least. About 5 miles into our journey, both children were fast asleep in the back seat and we heard the sirens of a police car. But no sign of blue flashing lights to suggest that we were being followed by any of the emergency services. Around a corner and all went quiet. A little while further on, the siren started again and it seemed closer now. Visibility was poor but there seemed to be no sign of any other vehicles. We stopped in a layby to let whatever was following us go past. The siren stopped. We cautiously edged out onto the road again, but when we reached a set of traffic lights where we had to stop at the red signal, the siren started up again. At this point, my husband had a brainwave. At the next safe place, he pulled to the side of the road and got out to look in the boot. There was the cause of the trouble. The culprit was a model police squad car from our son's favourite TV series 'Space Precinct' which of course this had been the most important thing to take with him. It was at the top of the pile of toys in the boot, and every time we went over a bump, the lamp on its roof hit against the underside of the boot lid and set off the siren. After a minute it would stop until we went over another bump and it started again! Mystery solved.
I can't imagine having a hot Christmas, and especially can't imagine cooking a full Christmas dinner in the heat. Friends of ours who emigrated to Australia a few years back say it still seems weird putting up a tree in the height of summer. Do those in hot climates still send cards with snow scenes on them? or barbecues on the beach?