On Christmas morning 2006. I was in a jolly, buoyant mood. The presents were all wrapped. And I was getting ready, and looking forward to spending the day with my daughter and her partner.
As I walked across my living room. The mug of tea, I was holding, suddenly, inexplicably, slipped out of my hand. Standing totally still for a second. My first thought was, that the handle had come off.
Living on my own, if anything silly happens, I usually, vociferously remonstrate with myself. Only, this time. Instead of a torrent of verbal self abuse. Out came a load of inconprehensible jibberish.
I realised, instantly what had happened. There was no pain, not even any tingling. So I leant on the back of a chair, trying to regain my composure. After only a few seconds, I regained my speech, and telephoned my daughter, who, at the time, only lived two miles away. She called an ambulance, which, to their credit, arrived before she did.
I was carted off to hospital, where I was diagnosed as having had a TIA, a Mini stroke. A kind of warning, of possible things to come. I was released four days later.
And Christmas dinner? The turkey was already in the oven, roasting. After my call, they turned the oven off. But left the turkey still inside. When they eventually got home, later that day. The turkey had baked Rock hard, and ended up in the dustbin.
Not one of my favourite Christmases.
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