Forced chill out

It's the first day of the Garvald Christmas weekend tomorrow - the Orwell/Gorgie/Waterside bit.  (The second day is on Sunday at Mayfield house in Midlothian by the way).  In years past, I've enjoyed the preparing.  Getting the worksop ready and setting out our wares and everyone milling around complimenting each other on a good job well done.  This year it was different though.  For one, we no longer have our friends from Orwell setting up in the next room and, most crucially, I don't have all night to potter away until I'm happy the job's done.  this year, I had a son to pick up from nursery and I ended up in the horrible situation where I felt guilty for leaving my colleagues in the shit, but even more guilty about picking Dexter up from nursery later than I would normally.
When Dexter and I were almost taken out by a car speeding round a corner without indicating as we were crossing the road on the way home, I felt even more tired and weak than before.
After an evening of being shouted at by my son, I needed a bath, large glass of wine and a children's book.