Getting there....

..so Saturday morning I am fast asleep and Clive is in the kitchen before going to work, and I am woken by the door bell. I lie there and wait for C to answer it, but it becomes obvious he hasn't heard it, so I have to grab my dressing gown and go downstairs bleary eyed, it's only a quarter to eight, I suppose the post man has something exciting to deliver.

I open the door to be greeted by an over excited DC, complete with Father Christmas hat, delivering the turkey, and expressing amazement that I wasn't up because he said he would be going out early... yes I say, but I didn't know you would be delivering here this early..I said later...anyway, we go into the kitchen and open the box and show Clive the turkey and gammon ham. They are large enough to feed Africa twice over..if you remember (see earlier blog) I left DC to order the meat for me... Clive tuts and complains to me that the turkey is too big and we'll never eat it, and why did I get such a big one, and at that moment something snaps, I burst into tears, and say nothing I do is ever right, and I head back upstairs crying and embarrassed and wrong footed.

I realise that my struggle to be Christmassy has been under constant seige. The encouragement from Clive over the past few days has included: The music I play is too loud, when I have the heating on the house is too warm, when I light a fire I don't do it properly, when it does get going I have used too much coal/too many logs, there won't be enough to last over Christmas, I bought too much at the supermarket, why did I buy this, that, why didn't I get any lemons, etc etc etc, and the fact that the turkey is now too big was the last straw, so to speak. Added to the fact that I have done all the Christmas shopping, bought all the presents, written all the cards, and got no thanks and only criticism has suddenly seems very unfair and I have had enough.

Clive comes up and sheepishly apologises, and says it's all fine, and why don't I go down and have a cup of tea with David, who is loitering and unsure what to do. I go down and he apologises for the turkey, and we discover his one is smaller (he has a goose too!) and so we swop. He tells me what fun they had at the carol service choir rehearsal last night, and I feel even worse.

The good thing is that I cried buckets after they both left the house, I have now got it out of my system, Clive is being nice to me and appreciating things more, so things can only get better...can't they? Happy Christmas Eve.