Crimbo and the New Year

After a brief holiday hiatus I'm back to regale once again.

A Happy New Year to you all!

As night turned to Christmas Eve day, the tickle in my throat and the sniffle in my nose turned into a full-on cold. My holidays were to be controlled by my poorly state.

I arrived in Nottingham late afternoon of Christmas Eve, and cabbed it to Tom's mom's house, where he, his mom, and siblings, Alex, Lianne and Marcus were gathered for the day. I was also introduced to Fudge, the friendly ginger guinea pig, who was much more rodent-about-the-house than most pets of his nature. We entertained ourselves for a bit by playing Pro-Evo Soccer, before Tom and I headed down the Ladybay, his old local (pub) to meet up with all his old mates.

At the Ladybay, I was happy to see some familiar faces: Tom's former roommate Alex (now a college student in East London) and some of his mates I had met in Manchester. The heat was on full blast in the pub and the karaoke was interrupted a few times for power outages. Most of those times the blown fuse was a saving grace for the ears. After a couple of pints we got in a cab and headed down to The Living Room, where Tom would dispense presents to his fellow chefs who had worked the busy Christmas Eve service.

The mood was much grimmer than it had been last year at this time. Last year, service went well, Chef cooked us a nice steak dinner and we were all heading home at a reasonable hour. For some reason, this year it was jam-packed with people. We stayed there until the last patron left, and enjoyed a few free drinks before heading back to Tom's mom's. My cold was growing ever stronger, and sleeping was difficult.

In the morning, young Marcus was awake before anyone else, waiting eagerly to open his presents. He would end up having to wait a few hours to begin. The whole of the day was a rather lazy one. The weather outside was frightful (and the radiators were so delightful). Cups of tea and two Lemsips every four hours kept me going. We got halfway through a game of Monopoly before forfeiting (as is the fate of many a game of Monopoly). By the time the sausage-stuffed turkey and beef supper rolled around, my plate was bigger than my appetite. I tried my best but just couldn't finish.

Later we headed to Tom's place to find the lads had cooked themselves a goose dinner. Tom opened his presents from them, and we settled in for a relaxing evening. That is until someone decided we should all go to the pub. I knew we wouldn't find an open pub at 10:00pm on Christmas Day, but nevertheless, I followed the goons out into the spitting rain and enjoyed a nice "I-told-you-so" walk. Back to the house, with its beer-stocked fridge. By the end of the night, one would have thought we had gone to the pub anyway, when two of the lads took turns attempting to tackle a yard of lager (four pints in a long tall glass) shortly before a scrap broke out between another two. I couldn't tell if I was in a Christmas episode of Coronation Street or Eastenders.

On Boxing Day I was certainly feeling no better than I had, as Tom's dad picked us up to bring us to their Leicestershire home in the country. It was nice to be back at the house again, precisely a year hence, where Tom's step-mom and little sister awaited our arrival. The virus I had was already alive and well in this house, and I reached the peak of my illness that day. Another Christmas supper that I struggled to finish. I had a nice lie-down for a while, and that seemed to rejuvenate me.

The next day it was back to Nottingham, where I wallowed in my misery, passing the time by sleeping and watching TV. I walked into town a couple of times to get some air and see what was shaking. Most of the housemates were working doubles, so it was usually me, Adam, and Phil lounging about.

On New Year's Eve, Adam, Phil and I headed to The Living Room to join in the festivities there. I must say that place really isn't, nor has it ever been my scene. If I had never worked there, I would never have set foot in the place. Who'm I kidding. I wouldn't have been allowed in there with my unflashy wardrobe. In any case, there were some complimentary drinks with our names on them, so it was the place to be. At midnight the staff did their usual champagne behind the bar as the television showed the festivities in London.

By 2:00am the three of us were ready to head back, so we hopped in a black cab and gave the address. Having travelled that route many times, I noticed when the guy took a wrong turn, and an argument ensued. In the end we took the long way around and ended up paying him less than his meter read. The fares were higher for the holiday as it was.

In the morning I gathered my things into my backpack and Phil graciously, though reluctantly, drove me to the bus station. The usual long bus ride misguided by GPS eventually got me back to Bristol, and another holiday-priced cab ride got me to my front door and brought an end to the holidays. The next morning it was back to work.

What's next for me. Well, a very brief trip to Wales for a site visit, and hopefully a little exploring in the Southwest. On the horizon, another holiday to an obscure European destination. The Baltic states have caught my eye. A chance to get a dose of winter before it goes perhaps. Or I might just go to Scotland. Who knows?

Cheers.