Growing up, Christmas TV viewing used to be such a big thing. A double episode of Eastenders in which someone and/or something sizzles in a suspicious blaze. A blockbuster movie that was so new it had only aired in the cinema little more than a year previous. A Father Ted comedy special which was really fecked. And of course – usually avoided because of concurrent feasting on dried up old turkey – The Queen.

While others still go crazy over Love Actually or A Muppets Christmas Carol or even the old royal turkey himself, I have mostly been watching the BOM radar this holiday season. Only Big Bash cricket – for all its stupidity – competes for airtime, though usually in the background, usually while looking at the BOM radar. It’s riveting viewing, where you simply won’t believe the biggest twist yet.

They say Christmas comes around earlier every year and it was just ticking over into December when BOM radar became the must watch event of the year. Was Mount Kosciuszko up in the clouds, was that storm clipping Thredbo, would it ever stop raining in Jindabyne? Would Yarrongobilly Caves provide best refuge or how about the local pub? As long as you get in after the meat raffle and before the Christmas karaoke, yes.

Rain, rain go away and come back in the form of a waterfall. A lull in weather drama one morning providing relief and release and joyous, primitive, natural freshness. Sawpit Creek plunging and fizzing and totally out of mobile range to check the radar. Ignorance and bliss and all that.

Nimmitabel also produced sketchy mobile data and all I can say about that is it was a stroke of luck that I fancied a pie. Or, supposedly, Cornish Pasty. While discovering the sacrilege of sweetcorn the heavens opened, rapid rivulets formed and I prayed for the car outside. By time I forced down the last corner of dry pastry it had stopped, and Dad and I plunged down towards the coast.

I wouldn’t quite say the rain followed us. At least not until after we navigated flooded detours in the Bega Valley, stopped the car, and went to discover sea foam oozing through Wallagoot Gap. Only then did the rain return, obliterating the scenic drive to Bermagui and forcing fish and chip consumption in the car.

There was clearly a bit of a British summer holiday vibe going on. This extended to the following day when it was – in spite of more downpours forecast – only really mostly cool and cloudy. Relativism a conduit of positivity, low expectations a nurturer of delight. Mustn’t grumble. Things could be worse. We could do something.

It wasn’t really a peachy beachy day, unless seeking moody shots of rock formations and blustery coastlines. So we ended up in Tilba, drinking coffee and eating cheese. In between, taking a tour of its lush environs under the brooding hulk of Gulaga. Briefly the sun came out, and so too the flies.

With all the runoff of recent days the normally sapphire seas around Bermagui were a bit more Bognor. But Monday – the day of travelling back to Canberra – was much better. Radar viewing indicated little going on, much like a filler episode of Home and Away (or a normal episode to be fair). There was good coffee on the beach to kick things off, good waterside coffee again in Narooma and fish and chips by the lake in Tuross for lunch. Filling the time between dining stops, beach views and maybe the risk of sunburn.

In fact we stopped stopping at beaches because we were tiring a little of golden sand and fabulous blue waves. A bushwalk among the spotted gums was calling. A search for elusive butterflies and a surprise sugar glider, taking advantage of a respite in the weather to feed on nectar and ambrosia. Inspiration for the ice cream at Bodalla Dairy.

For a day, BOM Radar was barely a thing. The Australian summer in all its glory was back. Even the sea started to look that little more sapphire. But then I heard they commissioned a second season. Featuring a Christmas special. In which there will be some even bigger twists you never ever saw coming in an unprecedented TV first. Oh how I hark back to a spot of arson among the mince pies in Eastenders.