My mum has been agonising over Christmas napkins and which size turkey to buy since August.
What can I say, she’s a planner. But she needn’t have bothered.
Like most families, we’ve been gearing up for a “proper Christmas” after last year’s disaster. Then the news happened and I had an increasing niggle… my mum’s mum is 91, my dad’s dad is 97. Is it really a good idea for them to mix with four young kids who have been in Omicron-rampant primary schools until last week?
A fraught conversation with my parents was confused, because let’s be honest, the government guidance is baffling.
What if we all isolate? We’re all triple-jabbed, we’re testing daily. Is it enough?
We decided to sleep on it. By Sunday morning, we’d called the whole thing off.
I spent the day despondent. By Monday the Queen had followed suit.
My grandparents will still spend the day with my parents so they are not alone at Christmas… again.
But my brother’s family and mine will keep away, with possibly only an excruciating Zoom call on the cards.
I’m now on mission compensation for my nine-and seven-year-old, frantically planning a treasure hunt.
My mum will cook the turkey and deliver our portion to the doorstep.
Her delivery will include a sad little bag of sprouts just for me.
We all want a merry Christmas and a safe one… it’s just a shame the two seem to be socially distancing right now.
