Thank God for that.
The stress and worry is now over for another year.
Don't get me wrong- i love Christmas on the whole- and i'm always the first one up, every Christmas morning.
This year it was a 6.00am start.
The stress and worry was because i didn't know for sure whether i would get Sy away from his computer long enough to eat Christmas dinner with us.
This year, for the first time ever, we had friends to join us. We used to visit family, but that was even more stressful, as we spent half the day in the car, and had to eat two full Christmas dinners....it was always the sprouts that finished us off.
So, the day started nicely- i got up, made the vat of coffee, opened the bottle of scotch and fed the cats.
I woke up Darling Daughter (can you believe, i have never, ever had her wake me on a Christmas morning- not even when she was little... can't decide if i am blessed or i have bred a mutant strain of a child. Whichever, there would be many parents who would kill for the gene, i'm sure.)
I woke up Sy, told him it was Christmas (see earlier post regarding waking The Writer up) and finally, we were all downstairs opening the presents.
This year was fab- loads of books (of course), mountains of hand-cream (yet to see if any beat udder cream), bottles of Champagne (have hidden most of these until a book sells) and several tins of scottish shortbread (Sy had told nearly everyone that he liked the pictures on the tins- i hope to God he eats all the bloody shortbread too...me and Darling Daughter only do chocolate hobnobs.)
As we opened presents, i could see Sy furtively looking towards the computer.
I could see he was trying to work out whether he would manage to get on it and do some work while i was cooking the dinner.
And i worried about this.
Because i knew that if he went on it, even for five minutes, that would be that.
No Sy for Christmas dinner.
So i was ruthless and brutal. Just for once.
'You are going to help me in the kitchen today' say's i.
'But you never want me in the kitchen at Christmas, Sprouty' came the plaintive reply.
'Well, i do this year. We have friends coming...remember? There are things i need you to do.'
Sy came into the kitchen and sat forlornly at the table. In fact, he looked so dejected and lost, i broke a kitchen rule, which is to never allow a book at the table.
Once he had one of his new books in his hands, he was much happier.
Dinner went well, the friends came and went, everything was tidied up and that was that.
But Sy was still itching to go online.
I can't blame him really- His stuff on Authonomy is doing really, really well, and he was missing his friends on the forums ( now he's discovered them, he keeps banging on about them. I nod and smile and, inside, scream that i know how fab forums are- how does he think i've kept myself occupied all these years while he's been writing?)
I figure by late afternoon, it might be safe to let him fire his baby up.
But, horror of horrors, the internet security package has expired.
On Christmas day.
And to be fair, we knew time was running out, but you know what it's like....
'You can't use it' say's i.
' i know. i might lose everything...' say's Sy, looking ghostly white.
'We'd better leave it till tomorrow..' say's i.
'Yes' say's Sy, while twitching quite furiously.
What i didn't tell him until this afternoon, was that we can have free security off the web, if you know where to look.
I did think about telling him earlier, but i was enjoying the fact that my husband was actually talking to me properly.
Till next time,
Shakespeare's Housekeeper xx
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