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Nativity again. Still no Mary.  Although this year I can feel content with this lack of stardom as the lead parts where totally eclipsed by the Donkey who had a rather splendid costume with electronic bray when the ear was pulled. Unfortunately, due to a technical glitch, every sentence uttered by Mary was overlayed by an enthusiastic ‘EEY-OR’. As the supplier of the Donkey I was somewhat  persona non grata. Sam thrilled to be a camel and practised his knobbly knee dance thoroughly.

Have outdone myself with menagerie madness and now have inelegantly bruised and scabbed knees. On friday at 8am was busier than usual dealing with builders, dressing 3 children as elephants and preventing Harriet from impaling any part of herself on sharp tools when Sam pointed out that the hamster was rather still and cold. On inspection this was true and so was just explaining to Imogen about the tragedy of early demise when, due to the warmth of my hands, the blasted thing twitched – so CPR was commenced.  This being disastrously successful I found I was now in charge of 3 small elephants, a still pyjama’d Harriet and a not properly dead Hamster. And we were late. So had to drive children to school with Fang twitching, gasping and squealing on my lap – then on to the vet. Whilst carrying still-not-dressed Harriet and the now brain-damaged Hamster I fell off the kerb so arrived at the Vet somewhat bloodied. Fully expecting the vet to bop the animal on the head – she didn’t.

Oppressed Husband less than impressed to discover he was the proud owner of a hamster on a ventilator (well oxygen tent) and so we were all very relieved when extreme measures stopped and Fang was swiftly replaced with new incarnation aptly named Hope.

The builders have nearly finished Phase 1 in time for the Christmas break and it is with unconfined joy that I bid farewell to Richard the Farting Plasterer who managed to drive me to distraction by having to explain everything he was doing 3 times and picking the absolute worst moments for his educational monologues – not to mention the SMELL!

Went on excellent Christmas trip on a Steam train to meet Father Christmas who mercifully did not have the wardrobe malfunction that afflicted him last year when one split pair of trousers put me in a socially awkward position. Very tricky to tactfully tell Santa that he – urm – needs to rearrange his – urm – Sack?

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