Please see below for a ridiculous, irritating post, full of Christmas wine-soaked mush about how I'm going to come over all martyr this January - my most dreaded of months.
Well, I didn't do badly. I got until about midnight last night. Believe it or not, better than in previous years, but admittedly, I have turned out to show slightly less Blitz Spirit, or whatever those wannabe-stoic-Brits refer to, than I'd planned on.
I know it wasn't a hurricane, I know we're not in a state of natural disaster, I know worse things happen at sea, and on land for that matter, and blah blah blah-de-blah but last night was so noisy! This little Victorian terrace was creaking, banging and - a new one, saved especially to test me it would seem - whistling. Yes my house whistles. Get me.
So all this house percussion and tune-making meant no sleep for me and little for the children. When I 'awoke', or rather 'gave up', I came down to see the garden was now open-plan with our neighbours. I was very tired, but I could have sworn there was a fence there before.
Then the school run. First one of this year and we were blown and drowned along the way. All the parents were saying, "happy new year" to oneanother, as did I, with tones ranging from sarcasam to dispair.
Anyway we are going somewhere now, can't be sure where - too tired to think - but it's definitly somewhere with an espresso machine.
Oh and Happy New Year!