The Diary of a Not So Ordinary Boy

It is around this time of year that I start thinking about being well, and wishing that I, and my family, was.  Not that we are particularly poorly, only mildly under the weather, you understand.  Considering the date, we are remarkably fit and well.  Mid-December hasn’t always seen me, and mine, that way.

There was the year of the freezing fog, when A had a cough so bad that he missed (much to his not so internal pleasure) the school Christmas carols.  There was the year that, during our post-return-home-early-from-the-end-of-term, Sam declared he felt a bit sick and proceeded to hose me down with a seemingly unending stream of vomit, the only advantage of the situation being that my presence saved the sofa from an early grave.  And then there was the year, following a crowded Christmas dinner at the in-laws where the heavily pregnant me discovered that the ear-ache…

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