It should have been a shared event, but instead it was a quiet celebration for two, just like our first Christmas in France four years ago.
Our friends from the UK did not come, it was their third cancellation in nine months.
So, as the grey sky blew away, revealing a weak winter sun, then greyed over again, our two reindeer stood stoically by the 19th century amphora outside the front door.
Behind them, a riot of yellowing mulberry leaves lay strewn on the ground, cast down by persistent winter winds.
And with the temperature hovering around five degrees, we hunkered down inside Ellesmere in front of the wood burner.
The bar opened early, with Christmas morning champagne and later, mulled wine through to lunch.
Down in the dank and dimly-lit cellar, beneath the barn, a Penfolds Shiraz Bin 128, vintage 2003, lay on its side awaiting a call to action.
We'd carried it with us from Australia.
Placed next to a crystal decanter on the marble top of the Louis 16th sideboard, it gradually lost its sub-terranean chill and warmed to room temperature, 23 degrees.
There was an early skype with relatives in Australia, then we had a late breakfast of avocado, smoked salmon and poached eggs.
Cliona started on the goose, filling the four kilogram bird with a Delia Smith forced-meat stuffing and a second, spiced cranberry and apple mixture.
While the goose rested after two-and-a-half hours in the oven, we had our seafood entrée.
Roast goose, stuffing and vegetables for main course ...
And for dessert ... a tranche of Bûche de Noël from the Port Sainte Marie bakery.
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While the French celebrate with a grand repas on Christmas Eve, we stick to our traditions and have an indulgent day on the 25th.
You can easily be a gourmand in France, it is one of the truly great joys of living here.
