The Greatest Gift Of All

Books, games, fun things and cookery items; great food, shit TV and nice company.

Christmas summed up in a sentence.

And then… a cold.

I’ve only just been ill. What the actual feck is that all about? I shouldn’t be due to be ill for a good while yet, but instead I get to wake up on Boxing Day morning to a deluge of snot that wouldn’t be out of place on a children’s gameshow hosted by Dave Benson Phillips.

It was pouring out of me at a rate of knots.

It was a race against time to find a hankerchief (because I’m super old fashioned!) before the snot poured out of me into the drawer… an attractive mental image I’m sure you’ll all agree.

I didn’t think I was too bad until this afternoon when I’d taken a shower and we were supposed to be heading out to Carole’s family. I was in the car and everything.

And then I was back at home because I felt absolutely bloody shocking.

I mean, I slept solidly for the next three hours, so I’ll take it that I am ill and something needs to be done. But if this is what happens when you spend time with loved ones then I’m not sure I want to do it any more.

Carole had brought germs home from work, after all, claiming she wouldn’t make it to Christmas. And yet she did, bottled her germs up and gave them to me. Like the song Last Christmas, but with the line “And the very next day, I felt like shit…”

This is also punishment for me ignoring the constant barrage of texts from the Doctors telling me to get a flu jab.

But luckily I’m not going to bang on about it. Probably.

I’m just going to sit here quietly, with snot pouring down my face, across my hands and onto the keyboard. No biggy.

I might make it to New Year’s if we’re lucky…