Rien ne change

It's Christmas eve, the time we've been waiting for all year, the time we travel 'home' to be with family and loved ones. It's the time when we're going to be jolly come what may, and remember the reason why we celebrate it, and on decisions made in the past, for richer, for poorer, 'til death do us part.

By the way, I can't be doing with those cynics who say that it's just a pagan ritual anyway and there's no way Jesus was born on December 25th. You've missed the point maaan.

Christmas eve is an odd one though, and yesterday, for me particularly, was an odd one. I've got a cold and a sore throat and a headache. Also I've got to be jolly cos my friends want to see me too, then over to the family for buffet tea, then adult children are going out. By this time I'm too tired so have an early night after wrapping presents.

'Come on Ivan, cheer up'. 'I am cheered up, I just don't feel very well' I say to myself. It's very rare for me to have a cold, and it has always been difficult for me to be ill, there's always someone else who is more ill, or more tired. or more hard worked. 'You shouldn't have so much to drink' a helpful daughter suggests - a pint of beer and a glass of wine over six hours. You can't object though or it sounds defensive, and people think you're an alchy. 'No, OK' I say through gritted teeth. 'I'm ill' I mutter under my breath.

The family had gathered at Anne's sister's house for a joint tea. Everyone is jolly and joins in. Uncle John can't set off until tomorrow and is likely to be up at lunchtime. There's a murmur of understanding with an undercurrent of disapproval. No games tonight but may be tomorrow. Christmas day.