The vomiting cavalier

Shortly after this photo was taken we packed up and set out to Oxenhope to catch the Santa special steam train - tickets for which were booked weeks ago at a cost of something rather exorbitant. The drive over the moor was perilous to say the least with driving rain and mist the like of which I haven't seen since the fell gathering days in Knock. Having traversed huge sheets of water pouring off the peat soaked land we were about five minutes away from the station when George was very very very sick, all over himself, his car seat and the seat in front. I knew something was up, he'd been quiet and still and didn't seem at all his usual self and there it was...all over the place. We then had to find somewhere to park and perform this ridiculous contortion trick taking off clothes and getting them into nappy bags so as to contain the sick, using handfuls of wet wipes to mop mop mop...child, car, seat....then we find that the usual spare clothing in the nappy bag has been plundered at some earlier time and all that is left is a pair of socks....great....thinking on my feet I see Jon has a stripey t-shirt on over his black long sleeve so I get him out of the car and he whips that off and we then line the seat with muslins, sit the naked to his nappy and shivering child back in, dress him in his Daddy's top which comes down to his ankles, and then I wrap my big scarf around him. Strapped in and with heater on full the now relatively clean, dry and warm George starts babbling and jiggling and smiling again and I feel something of a relief as we go battling back home over the worsening moor. Through Hebden and the rivers are high and the rain is a torrent, happy boy bounces and babbles, on to Tod and the sky is brighter, by the time we reach home the deluge is a drizzle. The t-shirt clad sick boy is carried in and upstairs and ten minutes later is in a lovely warm bubble bath, and now, as I type, the squeaky clean George is singing and giggling with his Daddy, polishing off a dish of spaghetti hoops on toast. Santa special it is not, but it's home and he's well and that's all that matters.

Viva Joe

The only music hero I have ever had.

Joe Strummer

who died ten years ago today aged 50.

Second Wedding Anniversary

Black Friday

As it was our anniversary Graham and Poppy offered to babysit and give me and Jon's our first night out alone since I found out I was pregnant with George. It was nice, it was strange, it was busy, it was cold.... I enjoyed my Guinness, I struggled with the very very drunk people, I enjoyed the slightly merry people, I liked having some time to sit and chat with Jon, I missed my baby boy.

George and his tree

This is a little nordmann we have in our bedroom - unlike the big one in the living room this one is actually on the floor and has just very basic baubles on it so George can enjoy it.

Look what I can do Mummy!

First of all he pulls a cushion down from the sofa onto the floor and stands on it and pushes off...and then up he gets! - he knows he's being naughty you can tell from the HUGE grin...!

Oldham

Home

The frozen park

We went for a walk, me and George, to the park in the bitter frost. It was beautiful. I haven't been there for a long time through being so ill but it felt like another little badge to pin on to say look at me - I'm really getting better. 

I don't think I ever said, though I wrote a post about this a while ago. I deleted it as it seemed like a bit of a bore. My thyroid stopped working is the thing, now I take a lot of thyroxine and will almost certainly have to for the rest of my life nut the upshot is, I am feeling alive again once more. I'm still a little anaemic and my immune system will take a while to work properly again, hence cough, cold, tonsillitis ad nauseum, but it's all getting so much better, please please don't let me have jinxed it by saying that.

 

The boys

Jasper 

  Boo

Monday

Had a really positive session with my counsellor today and last week will be our final session of this tranche. As before I have the strangest feeling of thinking how much i'm going to miss seeing her; it's an odd situation really as it is of course a professional arrangement under which we meet and yet it is almost impossible not think of her as a friend. 

I took this on the way home from the centre - it is the door to the strange bookshop opposite Patmos which is never open. The window dispay looks so faded and old, I wonder if it has been touched in years, in fact I wonder if this shop has been touched in years. What is the story behind the door? Will I ever find out.

Decorations

Hunt for the snark...I mean tree

Our local Garden Centre Gordon Rigg is a Christmas institution...we buy our tree, we visit the donkeys, we look at the lights and we buy one or two decorations to add to the collection. We get our holly wreath for the door and I choose a big bunch of greenery for behind the picture frames. This year George is old enough to take it all in and loves it...squeaking and babbling at the trees, the lights and the donkeys...the look of wonder on his face makes it all magical again. That cliche about Christmas being for the children...I never bought it until now, but his amazement at it all yesterday took my breath away.