Shame I can’t say the same about MS, which had the bad grace to leave a few extra presents under the tree.
It started so well. We had our company Christmas bash – just me and the boss marooned in a restaurant full of proper office parties (all excruciatingly forced jollity, loud voices and a solitary woman crying in the loos).
We had a glass of wine at my place afterwards, where I amused the boss by holding up the plastic wineglasses my mum bought me for Hallowe’en after I smashed my last one. ‘Spooky ghost or howling skull?’. Awkward.
The next day I had champagne with the family while The Teenager was in London. I took it easy, inwardly congratulating myself but MS had other ideas. The last thing I remember is getting home, feeding the cat, tripping over, hitting my head on the door and knocking myself out. I woke up several hours later with the cat next to me shaking her head sadly.
Then my arms started to go numb at inopportune moments. Normally it’s one or the other, along with constantly buzzing legs and feet. So with two numb arms and dodgy legs, Christmas Day was a trial. We helped to serve Christmas lunch to a roomful of pensioners. Someone thrust a jug of gravy into my hands and motioned for me to go forth and pour. Gripping the jug as tightly as I could, I made my way round.
I did try to explain that gravy washes out of clothes quite easily, just pop a bit of Vanish on first, but they were unimpressed and a good few elderly ladies glared at me as they dabbed ineffectually at their skirts and blouses.
So now we are in that odd period between Christmas and New Year. Numb arms or not, I have still managed to polish off a tub of Quality Street (the pain was worth it). I fall asleep at odd times of the day, I’ve tripped over a stray bauble and am considering installing grab rails in the shower (you really, really don’t want to hear that story).
MS has certainly made Christmas that little bit more interesting. Laugh? Til I cried….