A senior colleague announced today that it’s thirty more sleeps till Christmas.
Maybe for you grandpa, I thought to myself before remembering that I too am now a grownup and and can no longer be found in trendy nightclubs, drinking and dancing till dawn.
Actually was there ever a time when I did that?
Probably not, but the passing of the years has created a foggy recall of the past and I now insist that I enjoyed a misspent youth even if it is mostly fiction.
But I digress.
I’m not entirely sure that I agree with the assertion that it’s thirty more sleeps till Christmas. It’s well documented that I enjoy an afternoon nap, which means there are definite days in which I enjoy multiple ‘sleeps’.
So if only thirty more are required then I might be enjoying my turkey dinner as early as the tenth of December.
I jest of course. Mrs Proclaims is vegetarian (the fake kind of vegetarian that eats fish) and I’m not going to cook a whole turkey for myself.
We’ll probably have salmon.
But I’m definitely counting the sleeps and if I hit thirty before the twenty-fifth of December then I’m downing tools (proverbial tools of course – I’m a teacher and don’t require tools as such, although I will put down the board pen) and celebrating.
And if anybody objects I will simply show them my painstakingly recorded nap-data
It’s a fool proof plan.