Illness has been hovering over the house for a well over a week now; it’s the same at work. Getting the Park & Ride bus in the morning is depressing enough as it is, but recently, its been reminiscent of the scene in Shaun of the Dead when everyone is on the bus coughing, spluttering and generally turning into zombies- well maybe not the zombie part but some commuters come pretty close, especially in Bristol.
Shopping at lunchtimes is no fun, recently, the chav armies have been relentlessly clearing out Woolworths ("hmm, I didn't think I needed one, but this garden hose and shed set will be really handy for my 19th floor flat") and terrorising other consumers with low slung tight jeans (worn on a size 22 figure). I just want to potter about and take my time, but Christmas is no time for lolly-gagging around the shops, folk have been knifed for less.
My juices are positively overflowing with excitement about breaking up for Christmas; I have 11 1/2 days off work which is the closest I come to a school holiday these days. Most of it will be spent in Wiltshire, but there are a few days when we'll be out east, this will obviously include the Boxing Day match, will is peering over the hill at us all with its menacing icy stare. My sis is having a party (gatecrashers) the evening of the match, which will apparently be dominated by singstar, I'd have preferred Guitar hero myself, but if there's enough Desperados on tap, I'll sing anything (except 'Killing Me Softly')
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