Brace for it people. Winter officially arrives on Monday –and with it all the joys of morning frosts, shorter days and the cherished doona.

There’s something very special about a Sydney winter.

Sure, we don’t have the razor-sharp winds of Melbourne, but the season has its own charms here.

Here’s a list of what to expect for the next 90 days.

SOUP. Is there a better way to celebrate cold weather?

My late Nanna use to put a broth on the stove at the beginning of every June and you knew on arrival to her house that there would always be something to immediately warm you up. It’s one of my fondest memories of her home.

These days I’m just as satisfied with a can of something, but the bread roll has to be crispy and fresh.

One of life’s few guilt-free pleasures.

UGG BOOTS. Bear with me on this one, and for the uninitiated these were a fundamental fashion necessity in the 1970s, and weren’t they just divine?

I wish one of Sydney’s influential fashion icons would do us all a favour and step out in a pair.

Someone please send ugg boots to Delta or Nicole Kidman so they become socially acceptable again!

OPEN FIRES. Bugger the greenies, nothing better than putting a few logs in the fire pit and returning to your primitive instincts.

After Sunday luncheon at our house I can’t wait to grab some marshmallows and call the kids outside, brandy in hand, for an old-fashioned toasting.

Sunday nights were meant to smell of smoke, just the way nature intended.

ROASTS. We never need an excuse to tuck into a roast at our place, but there’s something about the winter months that make this traditional British cuisine very special.

Now, you’d be risking eternal damnation if you didn’t complement your roast with gravy, baked potatoes, string beans and sticky date pudding.

I know some families insist on brussels sprouts on these occasions. Personally, I think they are an abomination, but don’t let that influence you.

SOCKS. I don’t care how cold it is, there is never an excuse to wear socks to bed. Just don’t.

That’s what the Pommy does, and we are better than him.

PIES. How good are they? Obviously if you can get to Heatherbrae’s, Glenorie, or one of the Harry’s Cafe de Wheels pie carts then you are reaching the pinnacle of your winter dining experience, but even a Four and Twenty fresh out of mum’s oven will fill the spot.

I’ve instructed my family that my last meal, whether it be served on my death bed or at the Long Bay gallows, is to be a pepper steak pie.

THE BLUE MOUNTAINS. If you want a true winter experience you have no option but to take the bride for a Saturday afternoon drive up to the Blue Mountains, or, better still, spend the weekend.

Our go-to village is Leura, but there are plenty of outstanding alternatives that will serve up a decent hot chocolate or Devonshire tea.

If you’re in luck you may even chance a spot of snow.

HOT TODDY. One of the greatest things the Scottish diaspora brought to Australia was this recipe.

When I was Police Minister I tried to bring in legislation to make it illegal to drink a Hot Toddy without a cinnamon stick, but I couldn’t get it through the Upper House.

Heathens.

BONFIRES. OK, so you’ve enjoyed a few backyard open fires and now it’s time to step up.

When I was first elected to Parliament I lobbied to bring back the traditional June Cracker Night but got thwarted at every turn, so until the election of a much-anticipated Elliott government, you really have a moral obligation to get the neighbours together and have one hell of a community blaze.

Don’t worry about Fire and Rescue, I’ll deal with them. Just keep flammable liquids well clear, because with the price of petrol these days …