Friday 22nd December 1989 Morning surgery 10.50
“I wouldn’t usually come about a sore throat, Doctor Dennis, but it’s Christmas on Monday and I still have loads to do. Maybe I’m a bit run down with all the excitement. I seem to have been getting things ready for months. I bought my first present in September. I’ve still got most of them to wrap and half the cards to write. Len can’t wrap and he won’t help write the cards. He says he gets bored writing the same thing over and over again every year. Of course, the cards we’ve received still need to be displayed. We hang them on ribbons. I’ve put the lights on the tree but not the glass balls or tinsel.
I will be making mince pies, sausage rolls, pigs in blankets, stuffing and bread sauce over the weekend. I’ll need to prepare the veg. I always do enough sprouts for everyone although I know the kids won’t eat them. Len wants fresh peas this year instead of frozen and Lynn, my daughter, has asked for spiced red cabbage casserole. She had it at her works do.
All seven grandchildren are coming on Christmas Eve. Their parents are having a ‘night off’ but are expected for breakfast. I’ve got to make up the beds and I’ve volunteered to pack the stockings which reminds me that I’ve forgotten to get the apples and oranges. Len will be fast asleep by midnight so I will have to hang the stockings. It will be a late night by the time the kids are asleep. I might fall on the stairs in the dark and I’ll need an early alarm call to get me up to put the turkey in.
I am coughing so much that I am frightened I’m going to lose my voice. I have been hot and cold and my muscles are aching. As you can see, doctor, I just haven’t got a minute to be ill.”
“You have got a bad sore throat, Mrs Logan, but I am not giving you antibiotics for Christmas.”