My sister-in-law is wearing a dead fox on her head. It’s Boxing Day and, despite ten years of Christmases at the in-laws, I have forgotten to give the local town a wide birth and am confronted by the Hunt.
Unfortunately in my anxiety to buy the last remaining copy of The Guardian in Yorkshire, I forgot that the whole place would be swarming with red coats, including most of my husband’s family. On closer inspection, I discover that what appears to be just a dead fox is in fact a dead fox fashioned into a hat, but retaining all the bits, such as paws, eyes and teeth.
She has started a cottage industry making head gear out of fox pelts - an obvious niche in the market, if you want to make a statement with your hat. I’m sure Lord Sugar would approve, although I wonder how plentiful the supply of dead foxes is these days, what with hunting being illegal. My sister-in-law seems strangely coy on this subject…
Other than that, it’s been a good Christmas, enlivened of course by the snow. On Christmas day we took the kids sledging - it was the most fun I’ve had on Christmas day for many a long year. At least it was for my husband and me, the kids just whined because their feet were cold.
Of course their generation isn’t used to the cold and, sad to say, doesn’t really know how to enjoy itself unless there’s a screen involved. After two days breaking up squabbles over the Nintendo, I’m quite glad to be back at work.
Only a few years ago, hospitals used to wind down over Christmas and New Year. In fact, for two weeks hardly anything happened anywhere except for emergencies and repeats of Only Fools and Horses.
How things have changed - now Christmas is just a super-duper shopping opportunity, with half the country logging on to the sales at midnight on Christmas Eve instead of hanging up their stockings.
Now hospitals too are businesses and can’t afford to stop - we are supposed to work as normal, with elective lists planned up until 7pm on Christmas and New Year’s Eve.
In fact, Christmas is completely incompatible with the current business model. As it turns out, not all our patients are on-message with the new system (or perhaps they’re just anxious not to miss the sales) so we haven’t filled all our elective lists this week. This is just as well, as we have 12 elderly ladies waiting to get to theatre with fractured wrists.
I assume that they all slipped on the ice but I am wrong. One of them has another classic Christmas injury - she fell over her slippers. She had been given some of those novelty ones with big stuffed Scooby Doo’s on the front, and the next thing she knew, she was on the floor. We now have a small series of these and I’m composing a short publication.
I might have also identified another lucrative area for expansion of the family dead-fox business…
