The entire Bruton house is a mix of snuffles, coughs, sneezes and fevers. Boots is making a mint out of us and we're getting through a small rain forest's worth of tissues.
In other news, end of term fast approaches. My to-do list at school has become greatly reduced and it seems the really big push and lots of late nights in early december did the trick. This means that the only really huge thing hanging over me is the new website. Which has to be done by the end of March. I'm determined not to attack it until we start again in January. The holiday time is all about Christmas and a rest. And attacking the reading and reviewing shelf. 31 books and comics to read and review and 19 days to do it in. The plan is to get 15 done. I must be bloody mad.
Molly had her Christmas play last night. She was percussion (triangle and tambourine - played with immaculate timing throughout of course) and we all had a lovely time. After last year's spectacular performance as a show-stopping owl we were a little disappointed that she didn't want a role on stage, but she was determined that she was going to be percussion. As usual, it was at Pocklington School's Tom Stoppard Centre and my initial take on it from 2006 is just as relevant here. It's still like the bit in Love Actually where all of these middle class folks march into the building with small children in intricate costumes. We could have done with some snow but apart from that it was just the same.
And, as good as Molly's performance was the show was stolen, as usual, by the little ones. Every year the audience quickly picks up on the few foundation and year 1 pupils who are doing weird stuff. This year it was all about one wonderful child who just danced his way through the entire thing. At every opportunity he was swinging and swaying, making shapes and generally vogue-ing his way through the play. Of course, had he been on the back row it would have been funny. But he was right at the front. Brilliant entertainment.