Saying that, I have gone as far to remove all chocolate items from my room and put them in a cupboard far, far away (well, in the living room) so I don't mindlessly start eating some mini white chocolate Toblerones for breakfast, like I did this morning, especially since my stomach is still in a relatively fragile state.

OH YES. I, like half the country it would seem, have managed to become ill over the past few days, though I am trying to be hardy and battle on much the same as usual. I should have heeded the forewarnings when I was out on Christmas Eve, with Harris one side of me, who claimed to have flu (then coughed in my drink) and Joey the other side, who announced he was 'bunged up'. Splendid.

Anyway, I will skim over Christmas Day itself as it was lovely and spent as many others have been, at my grandmother's with my mum, stepdad, brother, aunt, uncle and two favourite cousins.

Boxing Day I drove myself and brother up to my dad's in Cambridge. It was pleasant enough, and we took the pets (well, the dog and my half-sibling) out for a woodland/parkland walk.

This is Poppy clutched under my brother's arm:

In the park she befriended a giant Pekinese caterpillar, which I wanted to steal:

Moving on to Boxing Night. I went to bed feeling fine, not even particularly tipsy, in fact. I awoke to my half-brother screaming his head off at around 1.30 am and, while he and whoever he'd woken up managed to settle back down, I did not. I felt bad to the point it was almost intolerable and I had to convince myself that one day I would feel well again! (Melodramatic much?)

I knew one thing though, and that was I needed to be sick. I did not want to though, as my stepmother's parents were slumbering in the room right next to the bathroom. I don't know, maybe I'm weird but I tend to find having my stomach evacuate its contents via my gullet and mouth an intensely personal thing and don't like anyone to be in earshot. Sadly there was not much I could do, except hope that they'd taken their hearing aids out, before the chucking up commenced.

Ugh.

The next day I wasn't feeling amazing so you can imagine my delight when on our way home, after a brief sojourn to check out the sales, we did an hour-long accidental detour towards BURY ST FUCKING EDMUNDS.

Next year I'm asking for SatNav.

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