So Cheery Tim, my therapist (I have decided that Chippy Tim could be misinterpreted to mean that he is a carpenter, so I have reconsidered) said that on some days with this illness you might decide to go all out and do something that you're really not up to. You pay for it afterwards with a few exhausted days unable to get out of bed.
So that's just what I decided to do. Because I wanted to take the Little Lattes to see the alternative Christmas Grotto organised by the Storey Gallery.
Badger Claws was well worth it. Attended by live human squirrels, approached through a woodland trellis, he was tucked away in his little sett decorated with twinkly lights and shelves piled high with interesting trinkety objects. He was warm and chatty, and a bit bonkers, and led me to believe that only arts organisations should be able to do Christmas because it was done so well.
The Lattes got to write letters to Santa and post them down a shiny tube, then were sent away with a golden walnut to grow in the Spring.
And then later they got to go to their friend's house, and while we waited for the friend to get home they got to explore the frost on the grass in the frozen playground, and play and slip on the ice, like proper winter children.
(If you're wondering what on earth the Littlest Latte is dressed in on this arctic day, rest assured she never goes anywhere unless she is properly attired in her Snow White Princess outfit.)
So all in all, a day worth going back to bed for.