'Dear Santa, this year I'd like...'

I'm not feeling my best today.

The Little Prince has gone off to his dad's for Christmas and, although I'll get him back on Boxing Day, I still find it hard to be away from him on Christmas Day.  He always has a fantastic time, stays up too late at the type of family parties I'd have hated when I was married to his dad, so I don't worry about him.  I just miss him.

Also, I have some horrible bug which has made me waste the day, wandering around the house in my pyjamas and feeling guilty about everything I should be doing.  I've ended up on the sofa, eating pretzels and watching Nigella. Food porn.

Big Al's parents have just left after a pre-Christmas Christmas.  Gifs were exchanged.  Big Al had told me that he'd suggested my present from his folks and that it was going to be 'the best Christmas present ever' (more on this theme later).  'You'll love it!' he told me.  I was hoping that they'd splashed out and brought me a new ski jacket.  Or silver earrings.  

It was a Teasmade.  My own fault.  I make no secret of the fact that, in the event of a fire/flood/escape to a nuclear bunker, I would take with me:  son, husband, electric blanket and slippers.  Perhaps not in that order.

Maybe it's time for a change of image.  But not just yet.  My gym has now shut for the holidays which means that any activity is banned until January. We leave for Canada on New Year's Eve and I've done 3 weeks of exercise.  So it'll be another ski trip spent sweating on the easy runs and shouting at snow boarders. 

I think I'll cheer myself up by sneaking the Teasmade and new slippers into the suitcase.

P.S.  Regarding 'The Best Christmas Present Ever' - this week we were asked to email our contribution to the organisation's weekly newsletter for the Christmas edition.  

I sent in my memory of the best present I'd ever given.  A couple of years ago I gave Big Al an Anne Summers Fireman's Outfit.   Of course I insisted that he tried it on (before Christmas Morning mass).  

I have NEVER laughed as much as I did when he walked into the bedroom wearing blacker boxers, fake leather braces and luminous plastic cuffs.  The piece de resistance was a red PVC fold out fireman's helmet, which was too small and sat on his head like a child's sou'wester.

All very funny and entertaining, and I thought it would make an amusing story for the newsletter.  The trouble was, everyone else had written in about their Action Man, their Joe 90 gun, a lovely ski jacket (lucky cow) or paragliding over Table Mountain.  

Never mind.  We're going through a re-org soon.   Maybe they'll keep me on for comedy value?