Mum came to stay over last night as it was time for Carole and Caroline’s annual trip to Chatsworth House to marvel at their themed Christmas decorations and complain about coming home in the dark.
Last year, there was an animatronic Scrooge in bed, shaking as he was visited by the various ghosts. Sadly shaking in such a way that it looked like he was cracking one off under the duvet. Who knows what this year would have in store.
Mum more-or-less demanded that we put I’m A Celebrity on for her. “I assume it will be on at 9?” she asked, because we’d mentioned it earlier in the evening. “We don’t even watch it,” we said.
Now we watch it.
No, that’s not true. We still don’t watch it. But I kind of really want to. And I don’t like that side of me, if I’m honest.
This is what mum does, though. She breezes in here and the next thing you know you’re watching Tattoo Fixers or Come Dine With Me or Coach Trip. Okay, never Coach Trip. But some of the others.
I tried not to watch I’m A Celeb last night. I tried to focus on boring things like washing up in the kitchen, but I found myself drawn back time and again to find out what was going on.
And worse than that, I found that I had opinions on things that were happening. Or the people that were in there. Although it’s really not hard to have an opinion about Noel Edmonds is it? But other things. I was caring about how they got on in camp. I was loving the relationships between the contestants.
I feel like I might watch it again.
I don’t want to.
But I really, really do.
But I don’t.