BOXING DAY

I fell off a ladder today.

I was brushing dust from the ceiling, when the step-ladder wobbled and I lost my balance. In a sort of slow-motion stumble, I found myself toppling sideways and into an upturned table. I lay there for a while, making noises like a steam train.

This is what comes of decorating on my own when I'm not very well... on Boxing Day. I didn't feel much like carrying on with the painting after that so I just went home. My sides are still a bit sore.

It's been an OK Christmas so far. Someone sent my Dad something so weird that we got a wonderful afternoon listening to his reaction to it. I wish I could tell you what it was but obviously I can't. It was brilliantly random. Just the thought of that person wrapping it up made me chuckle for twenty minutes.

In fact, it sort of inspired me to write a kind of epic (I mean long, not excellent) poem. If I can keep up with it, I might post a little bit for the next few days.

Meanwhile, I was reminded again of how much love means between family and friends. That to me is at the heart of it - the overflow of how we feel about each other means we want to spend time playing games, winding each other up and giving thoughtful gifts to each other. And eating food - which we have done like champions over the last couple of days. It's been great.

Well, until I caught a cough and fell off a step-ladder, anyway.

Here's part one of the poem:

THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS

On the second day of Christmas

The partridge looked at me

As he gathered up his feathers

In the branches of the tree

In the corner of the room

With a twinkle in his eye

The partridge in the pear tree

Had remembered he could fly

So he flapped and he fluttered

And he flew from wall to wall

While the pear tree shook and stuttered

In the prelude to its fall

Till it toppled from its bucket

Swishing leaves into the chairs

With the sound of creaking timber

And the thud of heavy pears

On the second day of Christmas

I had to fetch the broom

To sweep up all the partridge poo

That splattered round the room

Then suddenly, the doorbell rang

I stripped my hands of gloves

The postman laden with a box

said, "'Mate, are these your doves?"