Glorious victory. And inglorious ailments.

Hello, happy 2015 etcetera etcetera etcetera.  To be fair, I have very little clue what day it is, never mind what year.  This is down to the usual Christmas/New Year bewilderment that happens every year, but also because this year, for a change, we all got really ill over the holidays.

I don't know why I refer to them as "the holidays," given that Mr WithaY and I no longer work a standard Monday to Friday pattern.  Every day we're not working could be described as a "holiday."

Anyhoo. We had all kinds of plans for Christmas, all sorts of parties and events we were planning on going to, or hosting.  Day trips, even.

Mr WithaY and I went to the Bath Christmas market, where we bought gee-gaws and trinkets and trumpery*.  These included:

• A wooden trivet made of slices of wood all set in some sort of resin, which looks like an arty photograph.  I love it.  

• Some beautifully soft grey and blue lambswool fingerless mittens which I wear almost constantly outside, 

• A stained glass Christmas tree decoration from a very young, very silent, Belarusian nun.  

• A wreath made from dried apples, oranges, cinnamon sticks and (I think) Scotch Bonnet chillies, which now hangs in the front porch.  

We shopped for food, we made sure there was Champagne for Christmas Day, we moved furniture to ensure the tree would fit in the sitting room.  The decorations went up, the house looked festive, we were ready.

Things started well with several members of the extended family arriving for the weekend before Christmas, much jollity and dog-walking, and a tremendous curry where we all sat at a great big long table and ate a vast selection of lovely food.  The remainder of the family arrived the next day and there was more hilarity, dog-walking, exchanging of gifts and a buffet.  We do like a buffet in our family.  Mostly because you can have three slices of ham if you want to, AND a sausage roll AND some celery AND a bit of cheese.

The majority of the family went to their respective homes again, leaving just Mr WithaY and I, and my lovely Mum here for the Christmas period.  The first few days were perfect. We went out a bit, drank lots of tea, ate lots of delicious home-made food, watched some Christmas TV, and looked forward to the Big Day.  I went to work on Christmas Eve, Mr WithaY and Mum stayed in and watched a DVD together.

By the time I finished work at 6pm, I was feeling very odd.  Dizzy. Hot and cold.  Headachy.  I got home, and the others were feeling much the same.  And that, dear readers, was that.  We all went down with the flu as if felled by hammers, and for the next three or four days hardly moved.

Mr WithaY and I, whilst feeling dreadful, were able to eat a little, and even make cups of tea and so on, but poor Mum just got worse and worse, to the point where she ended up staying with us for an extra week, and was then only taken home on New Years Day to go straight into hospital. Thankfully, after a week of top-notch care, she has returned home and seems to be much better. but it was a horrible time for all of us.

Mr WithaY and I have both been left with horrible racking coughs, and intermittent high temperatures, but we are both much better than we were.  I have no energy, and even walking the dog around the village, or pushing a shopping trolley round the supermarket leaves me shaking and exhausted, but hopefully in a few days that will pass too.

The good news is that I have lost a stone, for the first time ever over Christmas, and am definitely less podgy than I was.  A few days of eating normally will probably put paid to that, but it's nice to begin a New Year feeling like I am already on the right track.

 Other news:  Prior to the Great Flu Outbreak, I was the proud winner of this:

The Stonehenge volunteers had their Christmas party, and held a Great British Bake-Off competition, where people were invited to submit cakes for JUDGEMENT.


I made this, a coffee cake with home-made apricot jam in the middle, and butterscotch chocolate ganache icing. Mr WithaY added the Neolithic deer drawing:

And it won!  I assumed, when Mr WithaY came into the pub to tell me (I was at the work Christmas meal, so wasn't at the Stonehenge event, clashing dates, sadly) that there had only been one or two entries, and we'd all won a cup.

Oh, but no.  No.

There were apparently about 30 entries, and the judges did it all very seriously, tasting everything and making their decision very carefully.

AND I WON!

Hurrah!  Here's the glorious cup in situ, dominating the room:

I am hoping I get to keep it forever, rather than having to return it next year.   That reminds me, I must add it to our insurance.

So.  The flu.  A quiet and very worrying Christmas.  A lingering annoying cough.  No other news.

Here's a lovely picture of the dog that my Middle Sis took on one of our family walks.  I really, really like it.  It shows you exactly what a friendly, sweet-natured girl she is.  And the dog is nice too.

Here's to a good New Year, and that nobody gets the flu again.


Oh, and once again there was no Dinotopia on TV.  Outrageous.









*you have to talk like that in Bath. It's the LAW.

Unlucky

Not quite as unlucky as Unlucky Alf, but not far off.

Things have been a bit quiet on the blog front for a little while for me, for a couple of reasons.

First, and least interesting reason: Work has been really busy, and frankly I can't go into detail on here about it, so it means many of my weekdays are rather limited in terms of stuff to share.

Second reason: I've been quite low for a few days, and haven't really felt much like writing. There are a few reasons for this too, inevitably.

Mr WithaY has been floored by a nasty bout of Man Flu, and has more or less been in bed since Sunday afternoon. He has very kindly decamped into the spare bedroom which is good in that it means I am less likely to catch it myself, or be kept awake by him coughing/sneezing/sweating profusely, but I hate it.

We have both been a bit strapped financially this year too, what with various car problems (eg Mr WithaY's latest £800 repair bill), and things are getting worse.

For example, I have been over in Trowbridge this morning, sitting in the plush waiting area of the huge Toyota garage. Not because I enjoy people-watching, or reading the Daily Mirror and OK! magazine, although I did enjoy doing both those things.

No.

I have been waiting for a Diagnosis on my car. And yes, it deserves a capital D. About 2 weeks ago I noticed that my car felt a bit odd when I was sitting at junctions, traffic lights and so on. Nothing major, just kind of extra vibration, not quite as smooth as it used to be. So, I booked it in for a service, as it was due one, and thought that would sort it out. I mentioned to the very helpful guys at the garage that I had picked up this odd extra wobblyness, though, just in case.

They went all grave and serious at me, and explained that there is a known fault with the flywheel on Toyota 4D4 engines, and if that was the problem it would be "bloody expensive" to fix. It did improve a bit after the service, but was still there.

Hence my trip to the Toyota garage for a full checkup.

The bad news: My flywheel is indeed fucked. I need a new one, and a new clutch. Job will cost about £1,600. Arse.

The good news: Toyota acknowledged that this is a problem and extended the warranty on these engines to 90,000 miles or 5 years, which ever came first. If your car falls into that category, they will pay for the repair.

The really bad news: The garage rang Toyota and explained the situation. Toyota's response is summed up neatly in the comment "No contribution!" on the record of the call. My car hit the 5 year mark on the 12th of March 2008. It is less than a month over the extended warranty date.

How unlucky is that, eh?

So. I am about to ring Toyota and ask them if they feel like being generous. I am not going to hold my breath.

I drove home a bit distractedly, wondering what I can sell to raise the money, and came to the conclusion that I have nothing anyone else would want. How depressing.