I started a whole post about the lead-up to Christmas, the frantic last minute cooking, the not-such-a-hit Christmas Eve supper, the onslaught of the worst hay-fever on record which has developed (i.e. masked) into a fully-fledged cold with runny/sore nose, sore throat/cough, itchy mouth, scratchy eyes, itchy/achy ears, a chronic predisposition to crying which is even boring me and so on and so forth, but even I was bored by it, and we all know how much I love hearing myself whinge/moan/gnash teeth over the minutae of my boring as bat-shit life.
So I decided on a pictorial review.
But then Blogger decided to be SO slow.
So I got nothin.
Christmas was lovely, the time since a mix of absolutely delightful moments being with the boys to chunks of irritation, illness and domestic drudgery. So not really different to my normal life I suppose.
I will leave you, however, with the shrine to my husband’s masculinity. Built after a full day of work, a wee while entertaining (and drinking), in the dark and under a light drizzle of rain. This was taken Christmas morning, and the sheer gob-smacked wonderment of our children on seeing it, was worth every swear word uttered the night before.