Happy Christmas one and all. What did your stocking produce? Father Christmas does have appalling taste; he brought me a Rovers Return teapot with matching mug. I despair. If anyone had bought me a bottle of sloe gin or port I would have had a glass by now for my breakfast... but they didn't.
In a moment of extreme folly last night I gave the boys indoor fireworks. They have burnt the house down so we all have to go to church to take refuge. Then we're off for Christmas lunch with Sensible Alison and Unpresuming Ed and their four bolshy children who are all just that bit viler than ours.
We're mostly ill. I am getting better but very slowly with dreadful bits of dying with the most awful hacking cough between the few hours of feeling almost reasonable. The Apprentice's cough is even worse than mine. Mr Smith is trying to be ill but really his flu jab seems to have done the trick. The student suffers from such malaise at all times we don't know if he's well or not. Mother-in-law is not allowed to be ill or I'll shout at her.
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