Saturday, 29 December 2012

Christmas Flu

Is flipping RUBBISH.

Belated Happy Christmas, blog readers. Did you have a good one? I really, really didn't. I spent 22-26 December with hideous, hideous, full on Christmas Flu. (I'm trying to make it sound a bit more festive when in reality it was nothing of the sort.) I've only had 'proper' flu once before, and that was of the swine variety. The Christmas version, despite its cheery moniker, is no better.

As well as the typical 40 degree temperature, sneezing, sore throat, aching body and inability to move or open my eyes, Christmas Flu resulted in the following:

1) Me descending on my mum for Christmas (for the first time in about ten years) and spending the entire time collapsed in a heap on her sofa, unable to do anything more than groan and watch my children trash her house. I'm not sure she'll be inviting us back any time soon.

2) A rather surprising Boxing Day, when post the hell of Christmas Day (the worst of the consecutive floored-by-flu days) I had absolutely no recollection of any of the many presents I or the children had opened. I'm still finding items around the house which I'm not sure whether were gifted to me or I just inadvertently ran out and stole from somewhere.

3) Me barely being able to eat ... OR DRINK ALCOHOL. I know. Worst. Christmas. Ever. (I was in fact so poorly that not only was I not eating or drinking ... I spent Christmas Day not having done either my hair or makeup. Those of you who know me will know that this is on a par with me not breathing oxygen in terms of its rarity. I am the woman who was applying mascara mid contraction at both my children's births ...)

4) The only, only saving grace of the above, or indeed the whole flu-related episode, is the fact that I started Boxing Day at the lightest weight I have ever been in my adult life. Even with a raging temperature, I can confirm that I am shallow enough that this raised a smile.

5) Neil yet again confirming his position of Husband of the Year by effectively taking control of just about everything over the festive period. The only bit he couldn't quite manage was the drive back from my mum's to home - based on the fact he doesn't hold a driving licence, which means it's fairly reasonable. He has marshalled small children, unpacked every last present, cooked meals and washed the sofa covers. He is certainly not a man who does things by halves.

6) Something of a canape mountain. As usual I had ended up buying twelve tonnes of the buggers which flu then rendered me unable to eat. I might have to start providing some kind of Canape in the Community service in my local neighbourhood.

7) Mr Jamie, yet again, taking on his role of Family Portent of Doom. "Are you dead yet Mummy?" Yep, that's how to make a flu-victim feel better.

So Christmas 2012 has, in a nutshell, been crap. I'm hoping to wholeheartedly make up for it over the next few days ... before the delights of SOBER JANUARY hit me. I know. Why do I do this to myself? Well, this year I'm doing it for three key reasons:

1) I wish to lose more weight. Shallow. To. The. Last.
2) I wish to give my liver a bit of breathing space. Lord knows it needs it.
3) I wish to raise some money for the lovely people at Cancer Research. Which is something I'd be very grateful if you could help me with ...

Huge thank you in advance for anything you can give.

With that, I'm off to make some serious inroads into my canape and booze mountain. What do you mean, it's not yet 10am? It's CHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTMAS ...

Wednesday, 19 December 2012


I may not be Noddy Holder, but it is indeed Christmas, and finally, finally, I have an opportunity to draw breath and start to feel festive. And, of course, update this blog, in a very festive and an oh so overexcitable manner.

It's not been a good few days (long, tedious, mostly work related) and I was starting to have a little bit of a panic that I was never going to have a chance to get hysterical with joy (and vomit on my own feet, natch) at all.

And then the following happened:

1) I went to see Mr Jamie's nativity play. I'll be honest: my expectations were low. He was cast as a chicken and had mostly focused on the 'killing song' (which it turns out was sung by the Roman soldiers in the play). He also had to wear red tights. This had angered him greatly. (Somewhat ironic, when you think of the amount of time he spends mincing around in my sparkly stilettos.) Oh, and he had to do the 'shaking bottom dance', which he assured me was an official part of the play. Low level mortification was the best I was hoping for. I was therefore stunned to find that it was actually a) a brilliant production, b) a performance which really did require a 'shaking bottom dance' from the chickens (although I'm still slightly unclear as to why), and c) not my son who mortified his parents the most ... that would be the one who vomited everywhere mid song. Brilliant. Admittedly Mr Jamie did look slightly like a vagabond due to the large hole in said red tights, and did forget his one line due to being so focused on adjusting his headwear (like mother, like son) ... but those are merely minor details. The down side of course is that it leaves me with something a dirth of blog material ... bear with me though, we'll get to Point 3 in due course ...

2) I WENT TO M&S AND BOUGHT CANAPES!!! Something I'd thus far avoided doing, in the mistaken belief that this would help me stay in the SIZE 10 JEANS (did I mention them again?) over Christmas. And then I wondered why I felt so sad and un-festive. Wandering past the shops yesterday, I was suddenly gripped with a dawning realisation that all that was wrong with my life ... COULD BE PUT RIGHT WITH SOME MINIATURE SMOKED SALMON BAGELS AND CHICKEN KIEVS. And it's true. It has put it all right. Although, just to be sure, I've also picked up some from Sainsbury's ... and I'll be in Tesco tomorrow ... and Ocado are coming on Friday night ... Happy days :)

3) We took a drive around the local 'chav' estate (part of which I live on ... I know, I know) to look at the unbelievably tacky festive Christmas lights people have chosen to festoon their houses with. Mr Jamie was very excited. We had an ongoing recitative of 'Christmas lights ... more Christmas lights ... more Christmas lights ... oh wow ... oh wow ...' which developed until we hit new levels of hyperbole: 'Oh golly gosh ... oh golly gosh ... more Christmas lights ... oh golly gosh.' And then crescendoed in what I can only describe as the most Mr Jamie-like of manners:

'Oh golly gosh ... oh golly gosh ...' - as we arrived at the most tackily decorated and shining bright abode of them all ... 'OH GOLLY GOSH AND BLOODY HELL!'

Neil and I would have attempted to berate him for his language choice, but given neither of us could breathe for laughing it was never going to happen.

Happy Christmas, blog readers. Have an awesome one, have many canapes and bottles glasses of champagne ... and may all your Christmasses be filled with comedy material just waiting to be put into a blog.


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