Our Christmas celebrations didn't pan out quite as planned due to the arrival of that uninvited and most unwelcome visitor, Mr. Norovirus.
The Boy was the first casualty. He spent the whole of Christmas Day in his sick bed, his absence highlighted (we're only five with a full complement) by the unused place setting and unpulled cracker at the dining table and piles of unopened presents under the tree.
The mister was the next casualty on Boxing Day, quickly followed by yours truly.
Just one word.
Yuk.
Festive leftovers have been consigned to the bin, the fridge is still full of treats which are not yet tempting dulled appetites, the Christmas cake is uncut, the tub of Quality Street unopened.
But the Gorgeous Girlie has been home for a few days, stacks of lovely gifts were given and received (and I really must give mine some proper attention), Boo seems pleased with his string of smiley sausages and we all recovered just in time for a night at a really good local panto.
De-Christmassing the house (and I can't wait to see the back of that droopy tree) will happen once we've welcomed the New Year.
And then we set off on an adventure.
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