The Dullest Blog: Comedy ramblings to inpire the most tedious moment of your week

My worst memory of Christmas was a few years ago when the winter vomiting bug came to visit and stayed right through until New Year. Either because it was terrified of me or it was feeling particularly evil it left me well alone. I suspect the latter, as I wrestled with the stuffing for the turkey whilst holding a child's head over the loo – and no sooner had I taken one head out of the toilet than I was replacing it with another. Winter bug not content to watch me struggle with the cries for help of four offspring, my husband was clutching at death's door too, just for good measure.

All the excitement and expense of Christmas disintegrated before my very eyes as the presents under the tree remained unopened and the beautifully decorated and tidied to within an inch of its life sitting room came to resemble Emergency-Ward 10. Calpol sachets, tissues and sick bowls littered the floor, along with five lifeless bodies staring glumly at the television unable to raise even a vague smile for the Queen’s Speech, but I battled on regardless with Christmas lunch, ever mindful of my late mother's mantra that when ill "you should really try and eat something". I just don't think turkey and all the trimmings is what she meant. You should see the mess brussel sprouts make.

We limped on between Christmas and New Year with occasional glimmers of hope that recovery was nigh, only for those hopes to be dashed in another cycle of bathroom visits, brow soothing and gentle reassurances that they were not going to die.

But as the New Year beckoned, there was a definite lift in the air and I went ahead with the planned celebrations. A dozen friends and their kids arrived with booze and food and as midnight struck we cheered, let off fireworks and heralded a new year, waving goodbye to a sickly end of 2005. The drink flowed and the chat carried on until the wee small hours and I eventually took my merry self off to bed at 7am, feeling relaxed and happy and with renewed vigour for what I had decided was going to be a cracking 2006.

But there's no play without pay in this house, as I discovered after an hour's sleep - a much healthier and bouncier 3 year old declaring "It's morning - you have to get up", my 9 year old pleading for me to join her in the annual "loony dook" and my 12 and 14 year olds rediscovering their vocal chords for a head splitting, humdinger of a sibling fight.

My head was pounding, my eyelids had been replaced with sandpaper and I felt extremely queasy - I had the mother and father Christmas of all hangovers - which just happen to have very similar symptoms to the winter vomiting bug, but with much less sympathy!

Here’s to a healthy and happy Christmas and New Year wherever you are.