Jesus Christ

 ‘Where were you?

We were waiting for the 12 days of Cheesemas and Books-in day.  Maybe even some dry comments on spending time with relatives, the fact that jigsaw puzzles should be for life and not just for Christmas. 

But you were AWOL,’ you cry.

You wonder if I was having an amazing time. Maybe partying or travelling and too busy to bother with words in a blog. Maybe I was writing other things. A little part of you wondered if I was OK but you didn’t like to ask.

The truth is I have done nothing. Absolutely nada, nix, nil. Who wants to read about nothing? 

I fell into the Christmas holiday, exhausted and coughing. I put the decorations up and hung my sign.

Usually I hang the sign and say to myself, ‘This house believes in central heating.’

Not this year.

At the beginning of December we had our annual service and our tank was condemned. The Long Suffering Husband had only mentioned a noise from the timer when we first turn it on. The engineer changed the part and the noise got worse. Unbearably worse. The part he needed next was obsolete. The only solution: a new tank and for obvious reasons British Gas contract that out to Dynorod. The engineer left apologies and 2 blower heaters and a promise of a call from Dynorod in 4 hours. The tank was obviously out of stock and the factory shut down until after Christmas. 

My whole personality, through the festive period has been about keeping the house warm(ish). There are rooms we have shut up (my study - winging next term’s lessons) which give us a good insight into the outside temperature (always warmer). I think that I can’t go out because I have to put another log on the fire soon. The dog has thoroughly enjoyed being a breathing, heated blanket and worships at the alter of the blower. 

What do we believe in now, if it’s not central heating?

I confess that Santa will always be my man. The dog had me up 3 times in the night on Christmas Eve at half hourly intervals from midnight. Something had spooked him and he had to check the roofs. 

The LSH, on the other hand, is more of a Jesus Christ man. I’m assuming so because of the number of times he has mentioned him over the last few weeks. New Year’s Eve being one of them. There we were, reading in bed. Double duvets, bed socks and jumpers, reminiscing about the 1970s, when the clock ticked into the New Year.

‘Jesus Christ! Who are these animals? Happy New Year,’ he said.

I laughed but didn’t sit up in bed to watch the fireworks in case I got cold. 

‘It’s like a war zone. If they wake the dog up and I have to get out of bed ….Jesus Christ!’

It has, obviously, been perfectly fine. Just not something you would want to read about. 

The 6th of December - Epiphany. And my epiphany is I am going to be pretty grumpy (and possibly smelly) as I go back to real life with the promise that it ‘should’ all be fixed by the end of January.