As predicted time flew past me like water and before I knew it I was shoving the turkey in the oven and indulging in a buck's fizz. I don't drink, partly out of choice and partly because it might upset all the meds I'm on but I always relax the rules at Christmas, as a result I enjoy it more.
On Friday Peter ventured into Tesco at 0700 in the hope of picking up the last few bits and pieces in peace. He was sadly mistaken as even at that hour of the morning the place was heaving. When he got back we both agreed that if we'd forgotten anything it would have to stay forgotten as we were not going back to any supermarket this side of Christmas. I was in work and arrived home to find the kitchen and dining room absolutely pristine, Peter and Andrew had decided to give both a deep clean before the big day.
As we were relaxing in the evening with a drink and some nibbles the news came in that Prince Phillip was being rushed to Papworth with 'severe chest pains'. Mindful of the Duke's age the media started to act as though preparing for the worst. No one has said the word but considering the treatment he had I suspect what really happened was a mild heart attack. The update later on said he'd had a stent inserted to unblock an artery, this is a routine op that has a very good success rate, however I doubt it is carried out on many ninety years olds and so concern was still high. I didn't know who to feel most sorry for, Prince Phillip because he must have been really poorly to be admitted to hospital. The Queen, who faces spending Christmas with a relative in hospital with a heart problem, I wouldn't wish that on anybody, or the hospital staff because I doubt Phillip is an easy patient.
On Christmas Eve I was at work so it was up to Peter and Andrew to collect the turkey from the local farmer and sort out all the last minute things such as finding the Christmas table cloth etc. Personally I think I had the best of the deal as I was constantly fed sweets, fruit and at one point a huge but delicious bacon and egg sandwich. I came home, with the sandwiches I'd made for lunch still wrapped, feeling rather bloated. Not surprisingly I didn't feel like much for tea.
The news on Prince Phillip was more reassuring but it was obvious that for the first time in several decades the Queen will not enjoy his company on Christmas Day. The press release talks in vague tones of 'keeping him in for a few days for observation'. To me this rings a few alarm bells, normally patients go home within twenty four hours of having the procedure, the really lucky ones get to go home the same day. The fact they are keeping him in, especially over Christmas could mean several things. They are either being over cautious because of who he is and his age. The initial attack was more serious than reported. He isn't responding as well as expected. I suspect we will never know the details but it sounds a bit suspicious to me.
Christmas day was quiet, a little too quiet to be honest. There was a big hole at the table where Laurence should have been but he was working and was much missed. He rang in the evening and his Christmas hasn't been all sweetness and light, he had to deal with a hanging and got involved in a couple of brawls. He sounded quite upbeat but is obviously looking forward to spending the New Year with us.
We tucked into turkey with all the trimmings and decided that this year instead of the heavy stodgy traditional Christmas pud to have a fruity cheesecake, a decision that turned out to be very popular. After coffee and a clear up, it was present time. Again we missed Laurence and the occasion felt a little flat. Everyone was really pleased with their gifts though, no more so than Andrew who fell in love with his notebook at first glance. He spent the rest of the day setting it up, he is removing windows and installing Linex, no I don't know why either, while Peter and I watched the TV.
Phillip is still in hospital but reportedly 'in good spirits' and tucking in to a turkey dinner. Well I suspect the first bit might be stretching the truth a bit, I don't know anyone who would be in good spirits if they were forced to spend Christmas Day in hospital. As for the second part, lets hope what is dumped in front of him doesn't give him another heart attack, hospital food is hospital food regardless of what day it is.
I didn't sleep well last night, I was suffering from 'eatingtomuchitus' and had chronic indigestion. Lunch today is going to be simple and light however the Quality Street, After Eight mints and assorted nuts are calling me from afar so tonight I will be taking a box of Rennie to bed with me just in case.
Something I must comment on while I remember is panic generated amongst women last week when it was revealed that some breast implants are faulty and are supposedly linked to cancer. The faulty implants are of the cheap PIP variety and have been found to be made from industrial silicon instead of medical silicon, I have no idea what the difference is. According to investigators in France one woman has already died and eight others have been diagnosed with cancer. First lets get this into proportion, nine women out of tens of thousands worldwide. That doesn't sound like a very high count to me.
Before I go on I must state that I am a firm believer in making do with what you've got and not fiddling with your body unnecessarily. My view is that breast implants are an excellent thing when used for what they were originally designed for which is reconstruction, anything else is just plain vanity and stupidity. I have never understood the need for bigger breasts, having been given more than my fair share especially as a young woman I hated them. I could never wear a sun dress or strappy top in the summer without a bra. Sport was uncomfortable at best and humiliating at worst as this was before the advent of sports bras so I bounced around all over the place. Even swimming was difficult as they got in the way, spilled out over the top of my costume and provided such drag that I had to work twice as hard as everyone else. And lets not even go in to what happened to them when I was pregnant.
Why would anyone willing want to put themselves through all that? Boob jobs don't even look nice, at best they resemble footballs glued to the chest and men confess that they much prefer the natural look regardless of size. So why spend all that money disfiguring yourself? Personally I feel if you were stupid enough to shove two plastic bags into your body then more fool you. Anything introduced into the body that is not supposed to be there is going to cause problems eventually, if you want the gain you're just going to have to put up with the pain.
And finally, Phillip is still in hospital, suspicious or what?
On Friday Peter ventured into Tesco at 0700 in the hope of picking up the last few bits and pieces in peace. He was sadly mistaken as even at that hour of the morning the place was heaving. When he got back we both agreed that if we'd forgotten anything it would have to stay forgotten as we were not going back to any supermarket this side of Christmas. I was in work and arrived home to find the kitchen and dining room absolutely pristine, Peter and Andrew had decided to give both a deep clean before the big day.
As we were relaxing in the evening with a drink and some nibbles the news came in that Prince Phillip was being rushed to Papworth with 'severe chest pains'. Mindful of the Duke's age the media started to act as though preparing for the worst. No one has said the word but considering the treatment he had I suspect what really happened was a mild heart attack. The update later on said he'd had a stent inserted to unblock an artery, this is a routine op that has a very good success rate, however I doubt it is carried out on many ninety years olds and so concern was still high. I didn't know who to feel most sorry for, Prince Phillip because he must have been really poorly to be admitted to hospital. The Queen, who faces spending Christmas with a relative in hospital with a heart problem, I wouldn't wish that on anybody, or the hospital staff because I doubt Phillip is an easy patient.
On Christmas Eve I was at work so it was up to Peter and Andrew to collect the turkey from the local farmer and sort out all the last minute things such as finding the Christmas table cloth etc. Personally I think I had the best of the deal as I was constantly fed sweets, fruit and at one point a huge but delicious bacon and egg sandwich. I came home, with the sandwiches I'd made for lunch still wrapped, feeling rather bloated. Not surprisingly I didn't feel like much for tea.
The news on Prince Phillip was more reassuring but it was obvious that for the first time in several decades the Queen will not enjoy his company on Christmas Day. The press release talks in vague tones of 'keeping him in for a few days for observation'. To me this rings a few alarm bells, normally patients go home within twenty four hours of having the procedure, the really lucky ones get to go home the same day. The fact they are keeping him in, especially over Christmas could mean several things. They are either being over cautious because of who he is and his age. The initial attack was more serious than reported. He isn't responding as well as expected. I suspect we will never know the details but it sounds a bit suspicious to me.
Christmas day was quiet, a little too quiet to be honest. There was a big hole at the table where Laurence should have been but he was working and was much missed. He rang in the evening and his Christmas hasn't been all sweetness and light, he had to deal with a hanging and got involved in a couple of brawls. He sounded quite upbeat but is obviously looking forward to spending the New Year with us.
We tucked into turkey with all the trimmings and decided that this year instead of the heavy stodgy traditional Christmas pud to have a fruity cheesecake, a decision that turned out to be very popular. After coffee and a clear up, it was present time. Again we missed Laurence and the occasion felt a little flat. Everyone was really pleased with their gifts though, no more so than Andrew who fell in love with his notebook at first glance. He spent the rest of the day setting it up, he is removing windows and installing Linex, no I don't know why either, while Peter and I watched the TV.
Phillip is still in hospital but reportedly 'in good spirits' and tucking in to a turkey dinner. Well I suspect the first bit might be stretching the truth a bit, I don't know anyone who would be in good spirits if they were forced to spend Christmas Day in hospital. As for the second part, lets hope what is dumped in front of him doesn't give him another heart attack, hospital food is hospital food regardless of what day it is.
I didn't sleep well last night, I was suffering from 'eatingtomuchitus' and had chronic indigestion. Lunch today is going to be simple and light however the Quality Street, After Eight mints and assorted nuts are calling me from afar so tonight I will be taking a box of Rennie to bed with me just in case.
Something I must comment on while I remember is panic generated amongst women last week when it was revealed that some breast implants are faulty and are supposedly linked to cancer. The faulty implants are of the cheap PIP variety and have been found to be made from industrial silicon instead of medical silicon, I have no idea what the difference is. According to investigators in France one woman has already died and eight others have been diagnosed with cancer. First lets get this into proportion, nine women out of tens of thousands worldwide. That doesn't sound like a very high count to me.
Before I go on I must state that I am a firm believer in making do with what you've got and not fiddling with your body unnecessarily. My view is that breast implants are an excellent thing when used for what they were originally designed for which is reconstruction, anything else is just plain vanity and stupidity. I have never understood the need for bigger breasts, having been given more than my fair share especially as a young woman I hated them. I could never wear a sun dress or strappy top in the summer without a bra. Sport was uncomfortable at best and humiliating at worst as this was before the advent of sports bras so I bounced around all over the place. Even swimming was difficult as they got in the way, spilled out over the top of my costume and provided such drag that I had to work twice as hard as everyone else. And lets not even go in to what happened to them when I was pregnant.
Why would anyone willing want to put themselves through all that? Boob jobs don't even look nice, at best they resemble footballs glued to the chest and men confess that they much prefer the natural look regardless of size. So why spend all that money disfiguring yourself? Personally I feel if you were stupid enough to shove two plastic bags into your body then more fool you. Anything introduced into the body that is not supposed to be there is going to cause problems eventually, if you want the gain you're just going to have to put up with the pain.
And finally, Phillip is still in hospital, suspicious or what?
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