Yesterday morning I woke up all troubled, having dreamed that I was babysitting a baby belonging to my friend Eva (who doesn't currently have a baby) and that, aged about four months old, it suddenly started being able to talk quite articulately, and within about six minutes, was chatting away with me merrily as if it were a well-educated grown-up. I found the whole thing quite disconcerting and was phoning Eva saying 'Your baby is a freak!' but she was at a wedding and didn't pick up. Then this morning I woke up having been running through a forest with some friends, feeling happy, but with the vague sensation that something sinister was going on around us, and I bounced and bounced and took off, and looked down, and everywhere, as far as my eyes could see, there were rows and rows of army vehicles and it was patently obvious that we were about to go into the most massive land war my lifetime had ever witnessed, and I was boinging around in the car park. I had to get out but I couldn't and I knew I'd be implicated. It was freaking terrifying.
Meanwhile, in reality, I'm having a lovely time with my family, doing crosswords, eating mince pies, listening to carols and screeching descants. My dad is trying to make me accept that I/we am/are better than other people, and that Tiger is a better cat than Dennis, while I'm resolutely insisting that all men, women and cats are created equal and that, while I may be better than you at knowing the lyrics to songs by T'Pau, I am certainly worse at other things, and any advantage I have is purely chance and to do with my good fortune and doesn't give me the right to look down on anyone else, and goodness isn't it lucky that my dad only has one child because he'd have a favourite before you could say 'I love them all the same' and the other one would be scarred for life. Unlike me. [NB I love my dad. Although we were discussing only a couple of hours ago how I will get my ultimate revenge when I read his eulogy. I think we have rather dark humour in our family. Apologies if it disturbs]. Concurrently, my mum is telling us both not to eat our food too quickly at lunch tomorrow and shushing us for complaining about the extract from A Christmas Carol that is read Every Freaking Year at the Christmas Eve concert at the Albert Hall. In summary, it's all just as it was last year, just as it should be, and my cup runneth over with happiness, love and gratitude.
Happy holidays, one and all. May your liver function adequately, may the Nurofen take away the pain, may your days be merry and bright, and may all your metabolisms be high.
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