Tis the season to be jolly. It’s the time of year that …. Oops .. Hello Stewart M. Perkins, thanks for liking this post, but shouldn’t have hit publish as, I haven’t started writing it yet …. hang on … Will be back in a bit … Don’t you just hate it when posts get away from you?
OK, I am back. This is, I am afraid, going to be a Grumpy Blog, because all I want for Christmas is to spend it at home with Cassie The Blog Dog and the cats with a roaring fire, lots of lie ins and no big brother (for brother, read mother) watching over me.
My Mother as you will see from bygone blogs, had a stroke nearly three years ago and now cannot travel to Jersey. Since my stepfather died in 2001, she hasn’t been too keen to make the trip over here anyway. The English Channel and a one hour flight make it a tricky option. So I do the duty thing and go to her.
She forgets a great deal these days, but never loses count when it comes keeping tabs on how many glasses of wine I have had, backed up with such sighed comments such as “Like Father, like daughter!”
Call me uncharitable, call me uncaring, but is it wrong of me to want a Christmas in my own place? I am seriously getting worried that a) my Mother may well outlive me, due to the stress she puts me under twelve months of the year or b) Cassie and I will be in our bath chairs and writing blogs about the the embarrassment of incontinence before we spent Christmas together at Home Sweet Home.
Ah well, I will do it with a smile, sometimes through gritted teeth, after all it is the season to be jolly …