Phantom Christmas

I have heard of the concept of a phantom pregnancy, where, perhaps because she longs for a baby, a woman develops the symptoms of pregnancy, yet there is no baby to be born.

This year, I had a phantom Christmas.  I made all the preparations – cards, gifts, food, sleeping arrangements.  Even though I try not to over-complicate, there’s still more than enough to do.

Pascoe, Perran and Carenza had all arrived home, much to our delight.

Then on the morning of Christmas Eve, I woke to find I could not get out of bed – I was gripped by a fever and aches and pains. Even my eyes hurt too much to read my novel.

On Christmas morning itself,  I got up for just long enough to see Pascoe, Perran and Carenza open their gifts.  I tried to be glad for everybody else’s sake that the sun was shining for the annual Christmas walk.  I got the makings of dinner out of the fridge and, led by Carenza, the rest of the family cooked and ate them.

By Boxing Day Nigel had the flu too. 

Gradually, over the next couple of days, we began to feel more ourselves again and had some good moments with our lovely children.  However, by Sunday lunch time, they were all gone, back to work, or celebrations with friends. 

Now there is bedding to wash and leftovers to use up, evidence that the festival took place, but I kind of have this weird feeling that I’m short by one Christmas.

Perhaps I’m due two next year!