I've been feeling a bit down of late due to my cold that arrived on 8 December and has only just really seen fit to leave me and remarked to Aunt Daisy last Thursday that I feel a "bit low and energy-less". She suggested that I get a tonic "from that nice chemist up the road" - I told her that it was nothing that I wouldn't get over and we changed the subject to other things (her next door neighbour and his increasing reliance on Mars Bars "they'll have to widen the doors if he eats many more!") She popped round on Friday afternoon, having been to that "nice chemist up the road" and presented me with this. "I've mentioned to Ivy that you're not yourself and she's going to drop in tomorrow to see if you're okay" Daisy continued (I should mention that at this point, she was smoothing my hair away from my face and peering into my eyes) "You look after mummy now little man!" she said to Mac as she whisked off to terrorise the men at her dance club.
Auntie Ivy arrived on Saturday morning, having just been to Surrey Quays - "I got you these - Janey swore by them during her pregnancy, sooooo comfortable! I've been meaning to give you them for a while but, well, you could do with them now couldn't you?" - this with a sorrowful look in my direction. I nodded my thanks in a dazed fashion and put them on the kitchen table next to the Sanatogen. "Oooh, no! Not new shoes on a table!" Ivy boomed as she buttoned herself into her fleece "And please don't do what Darren did with Janey's - he thought it'd save time if he put her soup in there at the same time."
At 11.30, the postman bought a package for David that was presented to me with a flourish - I was envisaging that lovely, gorgeous, expensive cashmere 3/4 length coat that I'd spotted in my catalogue (and had dropped more hints than Jim Davidson has sexist jokes) and I unwrapped these. He was beaming from ear to ear and said "you said that you were cold in bed the other night so I thought these would be perfect!". Hm. When I'd said that I was cold in bed I was hoping that he'd offer to warm me up. And not with pyjamas.
My lovely sister Bea appeared in a flurry of designer shopping bags this afternoon, accepted the offer of tea - "any lapsong darling?" - and handed me a glossy red bag with a gleeful smile playing about her lips. "I saw this and thought of you !" She took my (stunned) silence as an invitation to continue "there were other blankets that I thought of but.....this was the nicest. Do you know that one of those that I looked at were an ancient Scottish design traditionally used by shepherds to wrap sickly lambs in, to shield them from unrelenting Highland weather? Imagine darling, a sheep blanket! In Harrods!" I placed it casually alongside my other presents of Sanatogen, Slippies and PJs (noting the colour clash) that were still on the kitchen table. "Oh dear, it looks as if you're planning to take to your bed for the forseeable!" she hooted and proceeded to engage Mac in conversation about something she'd seen on CBeebies.
Is it just me? Should I be pleased that I've got a loving family who will keep me in the manner to which I should be accustomed at my time of life? Am I an ungrateful harlot who doesn't deserve any more presents? Should I be offended that I'm now an official PJ wearing, Sanatogen drinking old bird in need of microwaveable slippers and a comforting blanket?
No, don't answer that - Most Haunted Series 10 is being repeated on Living in a minute and I've just got time to get into my PJs and snuggle under my blanket.