Nineteen

I had a pretty good day for most of today. My mum, my sister and I went to the Royal Albert Hall for this show where everyone just sings a bunch of Christmas songs. It's a bit like posh karaoke really. It's also a little bit like Last Night at the Proms in that everyone turns up in funny hats and with their own 'props' and there's lots of little traditions (like mexican waves) that the whole place joins in with. It sounds a bit sad but if, like me, Christmas turns you into a five year old, it's a really good day.

When we got out of there we had a phone call saying that my Grandad had had a fall so we had to go straight back afterwards. It later turned out that his "fall" was actually a big heart attack. It's looking as good as it can at the moment and everyone has all their fingers crossed but there's not a lot else we can do right now.

Anyway, I didn't particularly feel right ignoring that fact,but nor did I feel right mentioning it in limerick form so I got stuck with this:




I'm not really sure what to say
About all that has gone down today.
Our day, which was nice,
Went downhill in a trice,
But I hope it'll all be okay.



(I do feel, mostly because I can't really pull it off, that I should probably promise never to describe events as "going down" again. I do promise that.)


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