Kids bundled off Down Under with one gigantic teddy bear and British residency visas. Check.
Obligatory tears at the airport in arms of my handsome Englishman. Done.
Right on the money pep talk from Air New Zealand aircrew sympathetically saying behind my blubbering cuddle –
‘Just the two of you for Christmas? Excellent!
Think of all those things you can do around the house with the door open!!!!
I’d get her off to the pub and home straight after!’ said to the Englishman.
Now it’s time to take off the Supermum cape and become… da da dee dum….
Cue long cuddly days savouring each other’s company, romantic meals a deux, and no early morning wake up calls! The bliss of only putting on the dishwasher once a day. No wet towels left on the floor to curl your toes when you climb out of the shower. No dashes to drama rehearsals, or storming Sainsburys.
There’s snow on the ground, and an excuse to stay in.
We’ve had four days together sans enfants in the past year, so there’s lots of time to make up for and we are ready to be a couple again. Cue the violins and the champagne on ice.
As is typical for this time of year, after all the rush and the worry of the year it’s been, I’ve been felled by a stinking cold. My nose is dripping like a tap with a faulty washer.
I am the epitome of Christmas sex-appeal. Not.
There’s only one thing to do and that’s to head off to bed, and hope that I wake up ready for my magical Christmas makeover. Or perhaps a festive round of Doctors and Nurses is in order?