Christmas could very easily have been a bust. Following my unwilling submission to norovirus (the Winter Vomiting Bug) in the wee hours of Thursday the 19th, I prayed that Ben would either 1. get it soon after me and get over it in time for Christmas, or better yet 2. miraculously avoid it all together.
I got over it quickly. I was fine by Friday. The weekend passed, Ben seemed chipper. However, wee hours of Monday 23rd, disaster. Christmas is cancelled. I was supposed to be staying with family 200 miles away, instead I spent my Christmas nursing an incredibly poorly husband, and bleaching my house like a mad person.
I won’t deny it, I was miserable. I tried to keep calm and carry on, but I had put in a lot of effort this year, and was gutted that I didn’t get the Christmas break I was looking forward to.
But these things happen. I managed to rearrange my work hours, and shoot down South to see my parents on Friday evening, before my aunty returned to Belgium Saturday morning, and my dad to the East (probably Myanmar? Who knows) Saturday evening.
It’s not the Christmas I was hoping for, but it can’t have been helped. Best to be philosophical about these things, and not bore you with sob stories. At least my house didn’t get flooded. At least my power didn’t go down. At least I didn’t have to take Ben to A&E and have him hooked up to a drip (forcing fluids on someone when they feel gravely ill is difficult). It could have been a lot worse. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and all that.
So, some upsides: I did get to see my dad, probably for the last time for the next 6 months or so. We talked about houses, and jobs, and PhDs, and ate a lot of food.
Unexpectedly, I got no academic books from my dad this year. I think even he has finally admitted that I need the occasional break. Instead, I got this:
Which is lucky, really, because my eldest brother got me this:
I have work to do. That’s a lot of roving.