On being stuffed like a turkey this Christmas.

by Pseud O'Nym

And it’s me who’s doing the stuffing!

Obviously the news that what we thought we were doing for Christmas is now not the case is an unwelcome gift from COVID. Which is putting it mildly, although not as mildly as if one were unlucky enough to get the new strain of it

Nosferatu has played a blinder though, she really has.

Last Tuesday evening, after all my stuff had been put into storage, and we had stopped off for a cheeky McAcne, she suggested that we book up somewhere near to our holiday destination. Just for two nights, in case of a lockdown, so we could still have our holiday regardless. She asked, expecting – with good reason – me to say ‘Yes, go right ahead’, and not, as I did, to say ‘No, I want to spend the last few days at the house’

She could constantly be making reference to this, seeing as how I’m the one who always bangs on about how anyone can be wise after the event, but the trick is to be wise before the event. I mean, yes, she mentioned it a couple of times yesterday following  the announcement, which was even then remarkably restrained, but since then, hardly anything..

She could also have made reference to the fact that on Friday night she wanted to come and get me, and had she done so, we could’ve still gotten away.  But no.

I know her game though, don’t you worry, oh yes!  Thinking that by staying calm when she should be by rights blowing her stack – and me knowing she should be, has loads of good reasons to – is only going to magnify the guilt I feel. That’s the kind of stunt I’d pull, actually probably have, knowing me, or knowing the version of me before the accident. In fact I should refer to the accident as The Fall, less of a reference to Mancurian misanthrope Mark E Smiths band, but more of a reference to my over-inflated ego.

The truly perverse thing for me is that my feelings towards being in the house have changed. When our holiday was still happening, I wanted to make the most out of the reaming time here. Then it was finite, ending, so of course I’d feel that way. But that was then and this is now, and now the holiday is no more, in part due to my unwillingness to leave the house, I’m ready to go.  

Well it makes sense to me.

Especially as its gone a bit “I’m Alright Jack” here.