So there I was setting myself up to Journal my Christmas with Shimelle and all the other scrappers and then we all fell before the onslaught of a virus. It started with the youngest who had a sniffle for a day or two and then a real cough and cold that kept her at home for a week.
She was generous enough to share this, giving it first to her Mummy and then to Grandpa. They both spent several days dragging themselves around before they admitted that they needed to stay in bed for a day or two. In the meantime the youngest was recovering fast so it was just as well that grandma and daddy were avoiding infection - so far. As the first two began a slow recovery Grandma succombed and spent a day wrapped up in the Better-maker blanket on the settee. Mummy and Grandpa confused things by getting a secondary chest infection and these both required antibiotics and vitamin C. Grandma was pretty soon on the road to recovery when Daddy decided that he could join in and he sank into infectious misery and lay on the settee for far longer than anyone else before he too was on the mend.
Then it was Christmas Eve, the countdown was on zero and the man in red was due to arrive. We had been tracking him with NORAD all day. The youngest went off to bed with her sack and after a long think she handed the sack to her mother and said
"You can put this downstairs mummy, I don't want a strange man in my bedroom - I do like Santa though mummy."
Christmas was lovely. Very relaxed, even though people popped in to see us unexpectedly the day was happy and carefree. Dinner was successful inspite of the turkey being reluctant to cook. I remembered that it was Scrap your day and so I kept taking photographs.
Boxing day was sheer delight. Eldest son and D-i-L came for lunch and we had such a marvellous time. They went on to visit with his dad and we sank into a relaxed stupor in front of the TV. The rest of the holidays passed in a happy blur and now we are into January and the weather is cold and wet and for some reason people in UK seem to think that this is a wrong thing. They seem to think that because they have California weather on the TV all the time that we should not have Winter. They use water like it is going out of fashion and then complain when it rains.
People say "Goodness it's cold!" I say "It's Winter, that should always be cold" and they look at me as if I am sprouting a second head.
These are the same people that cried in the street when Princess Diana died, even though they didn't know her they behaved as though she was the love of their life and wept with beating of breast and tearing of hair - and I think all of this is because we are told that we should express our feelings. So if you don't really feel anything except sympathy for the nearest relatives you feel guilty because all those around you are so obviously profoundly distressed at their loss.
It happens when someone is killed in a road accident. Suddenly there are teddybears encased in polythene bags strapped to the nearest lampost and bunches of flowers tied to railings. The fact that they placed by people who probably had only a tenuous link to the victim is irrelevant. Visible mourning is the fashion of the moment with all its vulgarity.
My cousin Michelle came to visit last week and we spent a happy couple of hours making Christmas Tags and cutting bits off used cards to make new ones. She is coming again and we will make more for charity and then we intend scrapbooking together. I am really looking forward to that.