Everyone around seemed to be ill and me, I sorted food, beds and beers, whilst shivering, bladderations and coughing. Missed a few key social events. Worried about my parents and began to wonder was it all worth the fuss, the hassle, the over exposure. Ill parents. Talking to mum’s hospital. Then our lovely Min still in hospital. Had got covid there. Ffs. A funeral of another friend. Clinical trials. Researcher meet. And Christmas all in one week.

Well yes it really was worth it and I’ll tell you why. On Christmas Eve those of us fit enough joined little O and his little brother at their village Christmas Crib service.

The children were asked to wear nativity outfits if they so wished. Only O did.

Each child was given a character from the crib to hold and at the appropriate moment place in the crib. The boys got lucky. Mary and Joseph were their awarded pieces.

BFG brought his foster dog. Too. He had no crib inclusion but whined every time we sang.

Boring vicar had chosen boring carols. No wonder foster dog cried!

A church warden lady thrust a bible in my hand. Please read Luke. 1 to 5. The journey to Bethlehem . “Gotcha” I wheezed and croaked. Much to my children’s amusement.

Boring vicar forgot to get the children’s attention. Not sure when to deposit Mary and Joseph, O took matters into his own hands and dragged his brother and me up to the crib despite the vicar droning on.

Then he adjusted his angel outfit sang more loudly and flapped his wings. Just as I was about to go up to do my reading, some other parishioner sprinted to the lecturn , I stood , up indignant..

, I tried to protest, my children whispered to me. “Shut up”. “Sit down. “

So there we were hearing about the shepherds sheep and glory all around. Whilst I’d had my moment of glory all ruined, we’d not even done the journey to Bethlehem, straight to the sheep field were we.

Unperturbed boring vicar carried on. O dancing up the aisle insisting I join him at the crib to be angelic. I tried to step back but hit a candle stick stand thing. It’s wobbles and shakes mirrored by the helpless laughter of my family in the back row.

We left shaking with laughter. The Everyone laughing and singing and congratulating the children on their performances. It was brilliant. That’s what it’s all about. Family. Friends. Small children. Happy. Laughing. The story retold to all who would listen, the next happy glorious morn. Christmas morning after checking on my parents, I drove home to my chaotic crazy household. Mira’s grieving family, sons, wives and their children too. popped round for a drink a BFG hot snacks and Daniel’s flowing fizz!. Such an honour that they felt able to come. Share memories and sipping our fizz we toasted her and all absent friends and family.

Bye 2022. It’s been a bit shit really. But despite all that, we can still laugh. That’s really what it’s all about.

In fact as I write I’m at MiltonKeynes Hospital. Dad this time. I’ve been here all night. Need a loo but the one here is disgusting.