I am coming to the definite conclusion that either the God of Feet doesn't like me travelling, or the God of Travel doesn't like my Feet. Or something.
Last time we flew to Europe, I came off Juliette's Rip Stick and twisted my foot really badly a couple of days beforehand, which meant that I was hobbling around like Long John Silver and had to wear Granny stockings on the plane to stop it blowing up (my foot, not the plane) – which didn't particularly work, as my foot was still the size of the Vatican City by the time we arrived in Madrid.
Then a few days ago, I woke up with a slight pain in the sole of my foot which has since developed into a painful swelling so that I can hardly walk. It wouldn't be so irritating if it wasn't for the fact that there is SOOOO much to do, SOOOO little time to do it and everything is now taking SOOOO much longer than it should. And if I can't walk before we fly, I will be extremely vexed, to say the least.
Friday evening I had my pupil's concert, so in between teaching Juliette and my Ladies choir and my pupils and making mince pies, I was hopping around on one foot, desperately trying to get my house into the sort of state which I like to pretend is the norm. I knew that within five minutes of the kids arriving, the house would be in a state of chaos, but I still put myself through the whole thing. Why? Am I really convincing anyone that I'm not a slob? I doubt it. At least the concert was lovely. Usually, putting on a concert guarantees a last minute frantic whirl of practise, but a lot of the kids are just too tired at the moment with the heat wave we've been having and all the usual end of term stuff, so there wasn't as much pre concert practise as I would have liked. Still, it was still delightful seeing them all get up and perform solo, introducing their pieces and giving a beautiful bow before and afterwards. They all displayed much more confidence and better performing skills than me, so I am pretty proud of them.
Today, dosed up with antibiotics as I am, I have my Ladies Choir carol singing party, for which I may be doing a puppet show. Every year I have a Christmas party and do a puppet show, but thought I'd forgo the latter this year, partly because I am too tired to get my act together and partly because I thought all the children were getting too old. However, there was a huge outcry, so somehow it seems that I have to come up with an idea in the next four hours. After a frantic couple of hours of cleaning, I am giving my foot a chance to de-swell, before getting the puppet theatre out of the garage and seeing if it still stands. Poor Rupert is going to be roped into performing, though he has never done it before, but hey, there's a first time for anything, isn't there? He doesn't know yet and is out at Lydia's ballet concert, so won't find out till just before the show. At least he won't have time to get worried about it. At the moment I'm thinking maybe Little Red Riding Hood with Jacob the Wolf and a cameo appearance from Edward the big hairy Giant...