It was a horrible Christmas. It was a great Christmas.
I’d been looking forward to it for weeks. My young adult twin sons were coming home on Christmas Eve. And some old friends of ours were coming to stay with their 3 younger children. Our preparation was thorough: a beautiful Christmas tree, abundant food and drink, Christmas stockings full of presents. And the best December snowfall for years in our French Alpine village – promising great skiing. The forecast for Christmas Day was 100% sunshine.
Such good fortune.
And then the norovirus struck.