The early ones we remember seem to be the key to it. I know a lot of UK friends who had been here for decades still used to mourn their old traditional white ones.
It was those damned nostalgic Brits that imposed the tradition of cooking up huge roast dinner feasts eaten in the hottest part of the day upon us when we were a colony outpost.
It defies logic to do that but although it's changing rapidly to more sensible menus and times, that was the 'normal' Xmas impressed on me, and I just can't tolerate the pretence that a plate of prawns, lettuce and an avocado is 'Christmas Dinner.'
I opt to spend it alone and indulge in the lunacy of a hot and greasy meal than accept invitations to modern versions and spend the next year feeling 'ripped off' and deprived of 'my' Xmas.
The effort and 'theatre' of producing that dinner was every bit, even more, a vital part of the experience than decorations or religion ever played.
I wrote a piece about that, I'll post it if I find it, or rewrite it if the mood takes me.
Anyway, back to topic. The day is warm, overcast, and exceedingly boring.