The tale of a disastrous Christmas
****WARNING this is a tale of Christmas woe, albeit it a tongue in cheek one, as I wholeheartedly know I am very fortunate in life to have a healthy family, a roof over my head and tasty food in my ever growing tum ****
So, it’s all over….for another year. Is anyone else breathing a sigh of relief or is that just me? You see, we had a pretty disastrous Christmas.
I certainly ain’t bah-humbug by any means, man we decked the halls like the best of ’em. But our festive period ended up being a tad more stressful than we would have hoped and I’d bet my last pound that many of you are singing from the same hymn sheet.
If you feel like your Christmas was the only one that was a touch blue, with Facebook showcasing jolly images of everyone throwing jinglebell shapes leaving you firmly out in the cold, then read on…ours is a tale of hospital stays, flooding, slipped discs and NO CRANBERRY SAUCE! It was a travesty!
Christmas 2014 had been marred by baby sickness/viruses (why is it that the mere sniff of winter brings on dreaded lergy in all small people under 3?) so this year we had planned some lovely December treats, meals out, carol singing, Christmas concerts, a little mulled wine party, the usual shizzle to get us firmly in the festive mood. It all started off so well with a trip to Harrogate for the Country Living Christmas Fayre (a total MUST if you love Christmas and kitsch). We even got our Christmas tree up early to make the most of the season….’twas was all going so wonderfully until it started to rain….
Now, living in the North of England, we’re used to a bit of the ol’wet stuff. But, when it didn’t stop and literally rained and rained and rained for what seemed like months, we all got a bit worried and with very good reason. Lancaster (where we live) and the majority of the beautiful Lake District was flooded, and I mean totally FLOODED.
Houses under water, cars floating down the street, businesses drenched and shut down, it was a bit like the apocalypse. Couple that with 5 days of no power, hot water or phone signal, it was a little bit miserable and dampened (get it?) our Christmas spirit, to say the least.
But as us Northerners do, we rallied together and showcased a camaraderie the war effort would have been proud of.
It was heartwarming to see and hear about the outpouring of kindness (and hot water) from neighbours, friends, churches. We made it through a fairly dismal week and once the power was restored, the big city clean up began and normality followed (ish). We felt pretty lucky our own pad hadn’t been flooded, but we know many who weren’t so fortunate. Having your house ruined is pretty darn miserable at the best of times but you can multiply that by a million just before Christmas.
So flooding aside, our weekend of Christmas parties approached (I even bought a new maternity dress, get me!), it was starting to feel a bit more like the December we had hoped for….until our little boy got a tad poorly. Poor little Maxie. Cue installment two of our disastrous Christmas. Max has a penchant for picking up EVERYTHING and getting it to the absolute extreme (just like his Dad when he was a kid). This time it was acute, breath constricting tonsillitis and a raging infection that landed the poor boy in hospital for three nights over the Christmas party weekend. It was fairly hardcore and he really wasn’t well, but as soon as the antibiotics started to kick in, he made a quick recovery leaving us ever indebted to the lovely staff at the Children’s ward of Lancaster Royal Infirmary and an unworn party dress hanging lifelessly in my wardrobe! C’est la vie!
But despite the flooding, the hospital stay and the no-sleep-for-a-week we were oh so positive and glass half full and onwards and upwards for our lovely Christmas week in Hamburg.
More fool us.
Hubbie hails from Germany so we thought this year, while we only have one nipper in tow, a trip across to ze land of excellent Glühwein, Christmas markets and gingerbread houses was the way forward. And while our first two days were totally lovely, it wasn’t long before the curse of the Cribb Christmas hit again in form of hubbie slipping not one but TWO discs in his back on ACTUAL Christmas day!! I KNOW! I wish I could say it was from some outrageouslay exciting exylene sport, but alas, far from it. He simply twisted the wrong way and knocked those discs out good and proper.
It was only after two hours flat on his back, with copious amounts of whisky, painkillers and ibuprofen gel that we made it out the house (aided by a make shift zimmer frame and two walking sticks) for Christmas lunch at his brothers pad. This pretty disastrous Christmas day was cushioned by the most delicious dinner made by my brother-in-law, so I ate myself into a coma despite the lack of cranberry sauce (seems Germans just don’t ‘do it’) and wished I could neck the whole bottle of port sitting on the table.
My dreams of putting my feet up and relaxing for the rest of the trip were well untruly down the pan. Illustrated perfectly by our journey home, heavily pregnant lugging all the suitcases, a trunkie, 2.5 year old Max and my own baby bump across the airport. The only consolation was that I did it all smelling great, courtesy of a HUGE bottle of Daisy oh so fresh in my stocking! Thanks Santa Marc Jacobs.
But as we plummet into 2016 it ain’t all bad, in fact it was joyfully refreshing to get the Christmas tree down and return to a bit of normality. Hubbie’s back is firmly on the mend, Max is happy, healthy and has turned into the biggest chatterbox on the planet plus the sun is actually shining.
So, Christmas was a disaster, but I am blessed in so many other ways that I’m letting it go, yes Elsa! 2016 I’m feeling you, and you’re going to be a good un.