I discovered just before Christmas that my children have entered a conspiracy to kill me. Payback, they might say, for the miserable childhood I inflicted on them. Although I do vehemently deny sending them out in the snow to sell matchsticks! Or of beating and starving them. No Matter. The fact remains . . .
Now before I go any further, I should tell you that I am a diabetic with out of control sugar levels. With me so far? Also overweight but we won’t mention that here.
I first became aware of their dastardly plot on the Sunday before Christmas when Eldest son and D-I-L gave me a gift basket full of biscuits (cookies) and CHOCOLATES – lots of chocolates.
And loads and loads of lovely food that simply couldn’t go to waste.
Christmas Eve I simply had to eat another dinner of ham and goodies with youngest som who would be working Christmas Day.
And then the Big Day arrived. And another gift basket of, yes, you guessed it, chocolates and biscuits. And a box of chocolates, and tiny Mars bars.
Now I can hear some of saying, so what, give them all to the needy but I am greedy (typo – NEEDY) and it is the gift that counts, blah, blah, blah.
So I did what any sensible person would do, cut off another hunk of ham from the bone, got out a book and sat and read and ate.
And a Happy New Year to All of You.