If Carlsberg did flus....you know the rest. First I got it. It took me down. Then the kids got it, well the women so far. This past week it’s been like having different children in the house, the bodysnatchers have been here. Both my girls have been floored by this flu that’s invaded the school. There were ten children missing in their class today. They missed their school disco, their choir concert. It lingers now with the Youngest. Stuck to the bed she’d sleep for Ireland at the best of times but this is different, no chat at all, no energy, lifeless. All you want is for them to get better, it breaks your heart. As a parent you would take all the unpleasant feelings away and suffer yourself. I have been marooned at home for over a week now with one or both and this evil viral flu. At least you’d get out for a few hours during the day in prison. And they wouldn’t keep playin the same movie over and over again. Well maybe they would, it is a form of torture after all. Now I’m a big fan of Jack Black but there are only so many times I can watch School of Rock.
Nevertheless, despite the mountain of tissues, packets of Lemsip, spoons of honey, cough bottle, flat 7up, snot, moans, groans, aches and pains Himself put the tree up. Dragged it in and scratched his head at the lights that didn’t work. There was a bread knife taken to the bottom bit, health and safety all important in this house. Now if we had a cat to swing he’d be dead, it’s like Narnia in the sitting room. We eat our breakfast amongst the spruce. Each year you dig out the old decorations, up to the attic or out to the garage. I cannot help but be melancholy for Christmases past. I cannot but think of our old house at home, the enjoyable Christmases we spent there. Each year the tree changes a little, from being bottom heavy with baubles and bits to now chock full around the middle as the children get taller. The excitement of the lights going on is still there, even with all the electric accoutrement they play with. And now the countdown is surely on. Seven more big sleeps before we get the ferry from Holyhead. Please God we will all be well. Christmases past, when they were babies, there was always a trip to Westdoc, par for the course. I cannot wait to see everyone again, to back meself into a warm fire. Bring it on...cooling ham, wonderful kitchen smells, glass of Bulmers and mince pies for Santa (Christmas Eve in Clonmel) , bleary and bright eyed a sea of shredded wrapping paper Christmas morning, Quality Street and Harry Potter, boxes of Tayto and Gladiator, the company of family and snoozing on the couch. The simple pleasures!
