Around midnight

You know how Christmas ‘always gets earlier’? It doesn’t so much when you don’t go to work in the traditional sense – not for me. There’s no bickering about shift patterns for a start. And because I’m sat at home working there is some isolation from it all which in some ways is no bad thing because I only get small doses of the xmas muzak as I grind my way through the supermarket. J was saying the other day that she feels even less xmassy. This year she can’t go shopping at all so what irritates the constant town dweller and which mildly distracts me she gets none of. The TV doesn’t cut it.
In some ways at least the girls are old enough to sort themselves out and buy stuff. I could go town with them if needed. But mums are meant to do that with their daughters. It’s the done thing. It’s how it is meant to be. But it isn’t. There nothing I can do either. I’m damned if I do stuff (because she feels guilty that she can’t) and I’m damned if I don’t (because she feels guilty again). You just get on with it though. Not like there’s a whole bunch of choices. This is wallowing but I don’t care – you know what I’d like? For J to be able to stand up straight. That would make my year.

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