Once again, and for one day a year only, my “Happy Christmas” tic is in context so, Happy Christmas! Fat Sister’s gift from her employer, the NHS, is three fourteen hour shifts – including one today. Despite this she’s in good spirits. She and King Russell stayed at the castle last night, and they’ll be here for the next few days as well.
While Fat Sister’s at work King Russell and I will be hanging out, watching films and eating. We’ve already opened some presents this morning but will wait until Fat Sister gets home later to do the rest.
King Russell’s injured his back, which means neither of us are very mobile at the moment. It does mean he’s been enjoying one of the amazing gifts I got from my Occupational Therapist a few days ago almost as much as me. It’s an inflatable bath seat and I can’t describe how much I love it. I no longer have to take my life in my hands and throw myself haphazardly out of the bath when I’ve finished washing. The cushion inflates right up to the edge so I can slide across onto it. I can then deflate myself into the water and rise up again at the touch of a button. Simple and brilliant!
Leftwing Idiot’s at his parents for a few days. He called to say Happy Christmas but ended up goading me with joyful descriptions of how festive the ‘Geranium’ is looking. His mum’s put some tinsel round its pot and it’s about to start blooming again. It’s difficult to maintain my stance that I’m not actually bothered about the geranium when my tics are interrupting with advice like this, “Tangle its roots with tinsel.” Christmas is a time for family, friends, food, peace, thanks and thoughtfulness. But as far as I’m concerned it’s not for Geraniums.
“Happy Christmas my biscuits.”