There has only been one poorly child at home today, and he was very hungry, and rather bouncy, and has got his voice back, and is generally very much on the mend. To school he will go in the morning.
He has, at times today, tried to convince me that he might be far too ill to go tomorrow, but has failed miserably due to his naturally exuberant nature and utter failure to be a very good liar.
I am very grateful that healthy times are heading our way. I am watching Tilly like the proverbial hawk. She seems very chipper, and amongst other things has embarked upon a ginger bread house building project, marking up the Christmas Radio Times and getting excited about Carol Singers.
I am hoping this festive excitement is not dampened by the onset of hidjus germs, too evil to contemplate.
In the meantime I am resolutely downbeat about Christmas, despite being relatively organised (for me). I think I might possibly get a weeny bit excited on Trifle eating Sunday as I have decided to call it.
I am also allowing myself a small frisson of amusement at the thought of what Derek will make of the tree this year. She spent a great deal of last Christmas trying to eat it, climb it and wear it. I hope she hasn’t quite grown out of that yet, and thank the teeny baby cheezus that all the glass baubles are still in the loft, where they have been for the past fifteen years since children arrived.
My hair is still pleasing me greatly, which is good, because it is one of the few things that has since the yellow flags have been raised atop the house of Boo. I keep catching sight of myself in the French windows and having a little preen.
To cheer myself further, and to remind myself that I am not quite dead yet, I have teamed the hair with a lime green and white patterned tea dress with a Peter Pan collar, and an emerald green long sleeved t-shirt. It clashes violently, much to my pleasure.
I am undecided, as I am about to venture to the pub quiz, whether to wear my new sparkly Boden shoes with it, or go all out on the clashing front and wear the lime green patent Docs.
It’s a difficult call, and one, which like the question of trifle, preoccupies me suitably and stops me from feeling like stabbing everyone I meet in the eye with a ball point pen.
I believe this is known as a good thing.