24th December 2007

Monday found the rest of the family mysteriously occupied in various corners of the house, study, dining room, and bedrooms, all engaged in their top-secret missions. There was the tell-tale rustle of wrapping paper, the unmistakable zip of Sellotape, and the furtive scribble of tags. I, on the other hand, had bought, wrapped, and lovingly deposited my presents under the tree weeks ago. What a good boy am I? Gold star for festive preparedness!

Later that day, Sarah and I joined the school choir for a spot of carol singing around town. It was a bitterly cold but wonderfully Christmassy evening. A healthy turnout of parents accompanied us, and we managed to raise £110 for charity. Not bad for an hour’s warbling in sub-zero conditions.

On Tuesday, my tonsils staged a full-scale rebellion. Swallowing became a test of endurance, and I was sporting a textbook cold with an accompanying headache. That evening, Sue and Sarah attended the school Carol Concert at the Baptist Church. Despite feeling like death gently reheated, I managed to drag myself along, too. The atmosphere was magical, the choir in fine voice, and the Infant Nativity Tableau was a heart-melter. Once again, the parents turned out in force. Afterwards, the staff and I headed to the Angel Hotel for our annual Christmas dinner. Spirits were high, the food was rather good, and the evening passed with much laughter, although I excused myself early, as my throat was less “jolly” and more “throbbing agony”.

Wednesday marked the final day of term, and despite resembling a character from a Victorian fever ward, I reported for duty. I probably wouldn’t have made the effort if I had class responsibility, but as it was, I pottered in. During afternoon assembly, the staff very kindly presented me with gifts. Standing at the front of the hall receiving them felt slightly surreal. I’m usually the one doing the handing out. I suspect my attempt at a grateful smile came out looking more like a pained grimace, but I appreciated the thought all the same. I went straight to bed upon arriving home, without so much as a passing nod to the kettle.

On Thursday, I dragged myself to the doctor, who took one look at me, prescribed antibiotics, and firmly instructed me to return to bed, which I did with no argument. That same evening, Jamie had his staff Christmas do at a rather swanky restaurant in town. He took Lara, naturally. One of us was dining in style, the other in pyjamas.

Friday was another duvet day for me, although I was starting to feel vaguely human again. No idea what anyone else got up to, I wasn’t taking minutes.

Saturday saw Charlotte head off to collect Nan and bring her back to Newark. Sue acted as family chauffeur: first delivering Sarah to Charlotte’s, then transporting Nan to Market Harborough. Sarah stayed behind to babysit Lucas, giving Charlotte and Suraj a well-earned break. I stayed horizontal for most of the day, but did manage to emerge from my bed and sit downstairs for a couple of hours like a ghost at the feast.

Sunday passed in a pleasant haze of mild mooching. The family chatted amiably, clearly warming up for the main event.

And so, to Christmas Eve. Charlotte, Sarah, and Lucas arrived in Harborough during the morning. Suraj was due later that evening, just in time for our now-traditional Christmas Eve ten-pin bowling trip to Kettering. Nothing says festive cheer quite like a few hours of competitive bowling and slippy shoes until nearly midnight. It’s become a bit of a tradition, and a surprisingly good way to usher in the big day.