I'm sorry, I know, it's been ages again. My excuses include vague viral-ness and an excess of irritating housework, as usual. Anyway, I've decided not to do the downstairs bathroom or wash the bed linen today (gasp, oh the horror of grime that now awaits my family) because I'm feeling ill. Again...

It's that time of year. The three Cs: colds, Christmas and something else beginning with C (chocolate? mmm, don't mind if I do, thanks). Talking of Christmas (yes, it's finally December, so we can), the Twins have been writing letters to Santa. This was not prompted by me, but the school, who gave it as literacy homework, bless them. Twin 1 says she wants a bookmark with her name on it with a garden scene in the background and some flowers (I happen to know a crafty elf called Kirsty, who may be able to help with this one). Twin 2, however, came bouncing out of school after homework club and announced that she'd just asked Santa for a DS Lite, an iPod and a pink television for her bedroom. I told her that it was fantastic that she had a healthy sense of entitlement, but that Santa might not bring things that Daddy wouldn't want her to have just yet (I didn't mention that Mummy wasn't quite ready to sell a kidney in order to fulfill her xmas wish list or that Santa was highly unlikely to bring anything that wasn't included in the Hawkin Bazarr pre-filled xmas stocking currently on top of the wardrobe in her bedroom).

What I want for Christmas is to stop getting ill. Can I put that on my list for Santa? xxx

ps - Son has remained suspiciously quiet about the whole Santa thing this year. I think that, following the whole Tooth Fairy revelation, he may suspect the truth, but is worried that if he says anything then the stocking will be empty. It's tough being ten.