I should always be wary of making plans, especially around Christmas. They are invariably scuppered. This is annoying, because free time is a precious commodity when one works full-time, and I tend to have a whole list of things to do, to be executed with military precision, natch...
Today I wanted to make a dash to Norma, then into the centre of town for some Christmas shopping for my folks, then lunch, then taking my eldest to his violin group and doing the Intermarche shop whilst he fiddled away, then a cuppa, then out for another vernissage in the early evening. In the odd spare moment, I would also have to put the ironing away, take the washing out and generally tidy up.
So, what's gone wrong? My youngest is ill. He got up twice in the night complaining of a headache so I dosed him up with paracetamol which helped him get to sleep. He woke up this morning, came in for a snuggle and told me it had come back and was making annoying high-pitched noises in his head. I sent him back to bed, whereupon he puked, and my day's plans lay in ruins amongst the debris.
So, no trip to town, no shopping and we'll see for the vernissage. On the other hand I'll have lots and lots of time for tidying, cleaning and putting the ironing away. Oh joy... We might starve, but at least we'll do it hygienically.