Robyn’s Nest

I’ve had a bit of a festive-themed day today - two meetings at work about Christmas cards and a text from the chairman of the volleyball club asking if, as social secretary, I can start thinking about venues for the Christmas bash.

Cripes folks, it’s only July and it seems so strange to be mentioning the C word! Anyway, one of the Christmas card meetings was like something out of a comedy sketch - myself and two colleagues sat around a table with a guy from one of the design agencies we pitching to work on the company Christmas card - I won’t bore you with the exact details of the project.

Anyway, this guy arrived a tad flustered as he’d got a bit lost, taken a phone call in the car, and just lost his focus. On dropping his stuff on the floor and knocking the conference phone on so we nearly jumped out of our seats, he exclaimed: “It’s going to be one of those days isn’t it?” It certainly was.

It wasn’t that the Christmas card ideas were bad, far from it, but this guy was clearly flustered and desperately trying to stay cool. And failing. He whipped out a mock-up of a card from his briefcase and…. wait for it… in doing so managed to whack me across the face with it, my nose mainly.

Me and my colleagues (me gripping my nose) just burst into fits of laughter and this guy melted in a pool of embarrassment. I really felt for him. He apologised a thousand times and we made a few jokes about Christmas cards being used as weapons.

It was just so funny, I can’t tell you. It’s probably a sign that we we talking about Christmas far too early in the year. I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the meeting and this guy will forever be know as the chap who whacked his Christmas card idea around my face. It’s one way to make an impact I guess.

I’m usually pretty good at avoiding the Christmas germs which float around the office every December. But this year I spoke too soon. Literally, the day we broke up from work, and as I was heading home to Shropshire, I started to ache. By the time I got there two hours later I felt like death. And I just got worse.

By Christmas Eve - the day I was to fly out to Morocco - my nose and mouth had merged into one shiny patch of redness, my throat felt like it had been scraped with a fork and I was coughing like a seal on helium. Oh, and every bone in my body ached to the point it hurt the soles of my feet just to walk.

After a sobbing phone call to my mum and some sympathy off Jen and Lisa, my holiday companions, we headed to Boots and cleared the shelves of anything which might ease my suffering. I then packed my suitcase with about as much enthusiasm as a polar bear in hibernation and got through three packs of tissues just on the way to the airport. Festive was not the word to describe how I was feeling.

So, I made it to Morocco but spent the week feeling lifeless and not bothered about doing anything. My tender red nose turned into a mass of dry skin and my lips were so sore it looked like I’d drawn around them with red lip liner. At one point I thought I was going to cough my insides up. Friends and family will know I don’t leave the house without mascara on, but flu even took away my ability to apply make-up. Getting dressed was about as much as I could manage. And that was an effort.

So, this is day 10 since developing the lurgy and, although I still have a bit of a cough, I am almost back to full health. And a little bit smug at losing weight over the Christmas holiday - a combination of flu and Moroccan cuisine! So, what was Morocco like I hear you ask? That’s a whole other blog entry…

The atmosphere in work is great today ‘cos everyone knows that when they clock off at 3pm, Christmas begins.

This is a new feeling for me, having had to work over the Christmas period every year since leaving college. And, quite frankly, it sucked. There really is no joy in returning to work the day after Boxing Day knowing that friends and family are still tucked up in bed and will spend the day scoffing chocs, watching nice films and catching up with mates and rellies.

Returning to the office - to put together a newspaper that no one will read - kinda kills the Christmas spirit for me. But this year is different. I have a new job with a company that celebrates Christmas by giving staff time off. And boy am I gonna make the most of it. This is the most festive I’ve felt in ages!

The weekend will be spent catching up with family - divorced parents means two lots of visits - and the obligatory visit to see nan (who is slowly losing her marbles and thinks I’ve been seconded to Milton Keynes on a special assignment. And she’ll no doubt ask me 20 times: “So dear, have you found yourself a young man yet?”)

Sunday will be my day, spent pottering at home, playing Christmas tunes, catching up with chores and cooking up a festive feast for Jen and Lisa who will accompany me to Morocco on Christmas Eve. Whoo hoo! We’ll tuck into tasty fodder, open gifts, watch Santa Claus the Movie and check we’ve packed our passports.

Yes, that’s right folks, I’m making the most of the Christmas break by jetting off to sunnier shores and kicking back for some proper r&r. What better way to end the year?

Merry Christmas to you all, ho ho ho!

I watched Elf on TV last night and it’s got me feeling rather festive. So, in my lunch hour today I invested in a 6ft tree (I already have a little one at home but this year I want to go large) and I can’t wait to finish work and start decorating. Yes, I really am that sad.

Those who know me well will think I’ve been very restrained this yuletide. My tree often goes up in November but this year I have waited. And I can wait no longer. I seem to have a thing for flashing lights and bits of sparkle - bring on the mulled wine.

Anyway, if you haven’t seen the film Elf, it’s brilliant. It’s not only funny, festive and for families, it has confirmed something regarding my taste in men: no matter how desperate I get (and I’m not desperate yet, I have to point out) I could never fancy a guy in yellow tights!