The Christmas 2021 edition

Hey, how are y’all doing?  I thought I’d check in with you after all this time!

Enough about you, what have I been up to for the past eight months?

Well, last week I ventured to the cinema for the first time in two years!  Luckily, it was a large screening room with only seven other groups of people around (and we moved three times to avoid being within 3m of anyone).  It was lovely to get lost in a film again, watch previews and munch sweets.  My mate even snuck us in a can of G&T each.  Mind you, it’s not easy eating cheesy nachos behind a mask…..

Other than that, it’s just been the usual:  screaming at the Sky box when the internet (AKA my lifeline) isn’t working;  eating healthily and walking – followed by eating crap and not exercising in any way;  accidentally weeing on my dressing gown belt (literally happened this morning);  reading some books;  trying out a new shampoo which is not necessarily working for me etc etc.

Oh, and I had this little thing called Coronavirus.

I KNOW.

That mofo struck me down.  It finally caught up with me, after months and months of anxiety, hand-gelling and avoiding people’s out-breath as they walked past me.  The irony being, I think I actually caught it whilst getting my booster jab.  We regularly test, and with my continuous negative results and the window of opportunity to contract it only being slim, it came down to that fateful Friday.

It may have been penance for having a sneaky KFC without telling Darren.   #chickenkarma

Joking aside, I felt pretty rough.  Initially, I thought I was just having a reaction to my booster – particularly as the jovial vaccinator flu-jabbed me in t’other arm moments after my Pfizer.  2 days later I felt exhausted, followed by the snots and a temperature.  Then came the cough and dulled sense of smell…..but my Lateral Flows were negative.

However, 4 days after the symptoms began, it happened.

I had just taken a LFT and set it aside whilst I began to dig into my bowl of Ready Brek topped with a white chocolate Lindt ball.   Imagine me, if you will, in my dressing gown (no wee’d-on belt at this point), hair messy (standard) and half a boob hanging out (sorry) just about to take a delicious bite……I didn’t even get to smother my lips in melted Swiss goodness before a red line next to the T started flashing at me like the beacon in a nuclear factory.  Dropping my spoon, I grabbed another pack and re-tested.  Red again.

FFS.

Suddenly I had flashbacks to taking a pregnancy test circa 1997. Although at least I didn’t have to chug pints of water to enable me to pee on a stick at will.

I frantically called Darren back from his journey to work and off we went for a PCR date.  As we live in the middle of nowhere, we had to choose a 25 minute drive to Yeovil or 40 minutes to Poole.  We plumped for Yeovil and Darren treated me to a Maccy D’s breakfast from the contactless drive-through to cheer me up (because thankfully my taste buds remained unaffected – thank the Lord for small mercies).   The window half down, both masked up, it looked as though we were about to rob the joint.

The rest of the day was me in PJs, tummy squirming with anxiety (who have I seen, where have I been, will this get worse?)  working from home and feeling naff and grumpy.  And bunged up, tired and all of the other dwarves.  Darren was being cautious because of my symptoms, but his LFT was negative, so he fed and watered me and generally put up with me and talked me down during my moments of highly strung emotional drama (and a big shout out to my buddies who listened to my woes and panic).

At 2am the next morning, Darren woke me up to tell me he had received an email to say his PCR was negative.  I was pleased – and a little envious – and passed out again until a reasonable hour, my fingers crossed tightly.

My negative result finally came later that day.

You’d think I would be relieved, but something still didn’t feel right.  So I tested twice more from two separate LFT batches…and both were positive.  I screamed like a banshee (but no one was home to give me any sympathy) and booked PCR part deux.  Mixing it up, and wary of the Yeovil batches, I went to Poole this time.  I felt like a pro, “no it’s fine, I can do it thanks” when the helpful staff offered to help.  Plus, I wasn’t keen on a stranger sticking a swab up my snoz, especially in the current climate.

After 36 hours, it came back positive.

Ugh.

The long and the short of it is, 2 months on and I still feel quite tired on a daily basis and sometimes I have a coughing fit in the cold or damp weather (on the occasion when I actually tear myself away from Netflix/snacks and leave the house) but I am OK and no one contracted it from me.

And I am so very thankful for that.

*****

Life is still a little strange and Summer was a bit of a non-event.  I don’t think I’m the only one who has found 2021 harder than 2020.

2020 was SCARY and unknown, but I felt like everyone was in it together.  We all thought the apocalypse was on its way and hunkered down when we were told to stay home.  We watched the news and messaged each other with updates.  We saw reruns of all our favourite programmes because no one was allowed to film anything new unless they were socially distanced.  We all got used to not hugging.

I knew where I stood.

2021 brought with it elements of tragedy, change and immense stress for many of my close friends.  My parents have barely left the house, but at least all my family are now fully vaccinated (including myself).  This year has been full of “what ifs” and woolly guidelines.  I have chosen to wear my mask throughout, but it has been slightly unnerving being around people who choose not to wear a face covering.  At times it has felt like the pandemic is a distant memory and people are no longer afraid.  But it is always in the back of my mind.

On the rare occasion that I socialise, taking a Lateral Flow Test has just become part of the going out process:  straighten hair, stick cotton bud up my nose, get dressed, lip gloss, GO.

*****

And now, here we are in the festive month of December.  Christmas is nigh.

Staff “parties” are virtual and I can’t remember how tall anyone is any more.   There is some uncertainty about whether there will be tighter restrictions nearer to “the big day” and I have spent too much  money on presents. There is no hint of a snowfall – as per usual – and the heating bill has doubled since last year.

Joy to the world.

Despite this, I do feel festive and tinselly.  I’ve started circling all the programmes I want to watch/record in the annual TV mag (not the BBC one because it’s a fiver these days!).  I’ve enjoyed my annual drinking Baileys-watching Elf-listening to Mariah-present wrapping and tree decorating-fest, and as I type I am diving into my Ferrero advent calendar.  I watch AT LEAST one Christmas film after work, even if it is absolute shite, because it warms my heart a little each time.  In fact, I have had three (yes, THREE) Crimble events this month, albeit small gatherings with no cuddles.  Even Darren has worn his Crimbo t-shirt a few times!  After a hard couple of years, it is nice to have something to look forward to.

Darren……I forgot to mention a small bone of contention: he accidentally received a piano (don’t ask) with the aim of learning to play something whilst off work this month.  Currently the TV is balanced atop it, along with a ceramic polar bear and reindeer.  I am yet to hear him play a carol, so my dream of standing there on Xmas Eve with a glass of champagne, angelic voice accompanying him whilst he tickles the ivories (oo-er) is shattered.  He’s got Frere Jacques down pretty well, but it doesn’t quite have the same effect.

Perhaps I’ll pack my fur-lined red velvet dress away and revisit the idea next year….

Speaking of the which, I am looking forward to food, TV and presents (you know, the fundamental essence of Christmas) and then seeing out the new year with my love and his mini-me.  I am hoping we can spend time with family and make new memories.  I’m hopeful I can keep my poinsettia alive until at least March (could this be my resolution?).

I’m gradually retreating back to my bubble pre-December 25th as I do not want to pass on any unwanted germs, or risk not being able to see Charlotte at Crimbo.   So instead of parties, snaffling roast dinners at the pub, and linking arms to Auld Lang Syne, we will be binge watching numerous series and tucking into cold roasties and a tub of Quality Street.

Coz we are British and “well, it’s Christmas.”

Thinking of those who have lost someone to this wretched virus.

Stay safe and have a peaceful, happy Yuletide with those you love.  

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