Good morning,

It seems I’ve dodged a miserable Covid Christmas by indulging in viral festivities a week early. Yep, I got run over by the Covid bus late last Wednesday morning after swaggering around my poorly husband, declaring that since I’d never had it, I was clearly Covid immune.

Well, the prickly little sucker (the virus, not my husband) pulled the rug under my Uggs at exactly 11.17 with a sudden brutal a wave of wooze. I staggered around for a few hours, trying to retain the upper hand on the bastard, but was eventually coerced horizontal. After three days of experiencing life underneath the duvet, when I awoke yesterday feeling far more myself, I thought the Covid fiesta was over. Turned out the little bugger was just tricking me, enticing me to run around with the vacuum, tackle some ironing, a mountain of laundry, and make a hearty soup, only to bonk me on the head with an encore mid-afternoon.

Meanwhile, my husband recouped in record time, and has been out golfing in the Spanish sunshine with barely a sniffle to spare. I must say that his Covid test was far less of a clear-cut statement than mine, so maybe he got a faulty version of the virus.

Today, I shall proceed with caution as I plan to be splutter and wooze free by Friday when our children arrive with their partners, looking forward to a good dose of Christmas cheer.

Stay healthy, good people!

xxx Francesca