Last Dame standing
This is positively my last seasonal post of 2015 and I dedicate it to…the Christmas Lurgie!
As always, it’s a variation on a theme. This year I caught it first, gave it to son and heir (so he claims), who shook it off within 48 hours, and am now at the end of week two. Symptoms: firstly, a normal head cold, which then drains you of energy, before it ends up on your chest and poleaxes you. The weirdest symptom is the three-tiered sneeze, which happens once an hour, three sneezes in quick succession which leave you streaming from eyes and nose.
Husband is now down, we are contemplating putting a black cross on the door, and there is only daughter to go.
The up side? Well, fingers crossed, we should be well for Christmas. But sometimes it appears to be a race to the finish line. In the days when we entertained friends and family on the big day, maybe up to 30 for a sit-down meal (although looking back I’m not sure how we managed it), we’d stay fit (relatively) and hale until Boxing Day then fall like ninepins once the pressure was off.
We are not unique. Holidays are, apparently, a virus distribution system. Cold and flu viruses, we’re told, circulate better when it gets a bit chillier. And not just that, we provide them with more opportunities to do so: think Christmas shows, parties, outings, shopping…as we press ever closer together, sneezing haphazardly and holding on to escalators which in turn have been held by who knows what.
A quick trawl on the net reveals myriad blogs from those who are already suffering, plus more offering tips on how to avoid becoming lurgified. But they are so boring! Drink a lot of water; rest; cut down your alcohol intake; go for a walk; take more vitamin C. Yes, well I was doing all that beforehand and look at where it’s got me.
So maybe I will modify my tips for those who want to go out with a bang.
- Drink more of everything, alcohol included. If we’re going to go down with anything, let it be accompanied by the mother of all hangovers.
- Let’s party as though there were no tomorrow. After all, we probably won’t see these people for another twelve months, and they’ll probably have forgotten all your misdeamenours on the dance floor by then.
- Stay in and watch every single box set you have in the house, plus all those programmes you’ve recorded and never watched. Let’s get the truffles out, and the prosecco, and just settle in…because one thing’s for sure: it’ll be better than what’s on TV.
- And possibly the most important: do what you want to do, rather than what everyone else wants. A little self-indulgence never hurts.
Our worst Christmas? One relative arrived for lunch on the day with an offspring suffering from the norovirus, having made a stop off at A&E, and knowing full well that all the rest of her family were recovering from it. Come Boxing Day, it was a case of the last man left standing. Our US guests had to cancel a trip to Paris, our daughter had to be rescued from her shift as receptionist for an osteopath by Mum, who spent the rest of the festive season putting on her nurse’s uniform (rare, ’cause I’m usually the first one stricken).
So lurgie, begone! I want to celebrate…and no one/nothing is going to stand in my way.