A year or two ago it was the week before Christmas that
was outrageously busy and full of social engagements and
parties and drinks and stuff.
This year for me it was last week — that is, the week before the week before Christmas that was the busy one. Six dinners out, two sessions of drinks in our backyard; throw in a cricket game and an exam as well and I've been left a little fatigued. But it was the consumption, I think, that is killing me.
Do you remember Mr Creosote from Monty Python's Meaning Of Life? Or perhaps Jabba The Hut from Return Of The Jedi? Cross that with eight days straight of the alcohol intake of Oliver Reed at an Irish wedding.
And then end the week with a family do full of two-year-old nephews getting tired and cranky. By that stage I wanted to hurl myself to the carpet and grizzle with them.
Anybody got any parties this week to invite me to? I want to do it all again.
The very best of the season to everybody.
¶ 3:10 pm
There are more subtle ways to let us know that you are into bondage.
Harpo,
I am, at this point, the anti-you. I went to two work related christmas parties for my new job at which I knew no one and have come home to a house resounding only with the items I have chosen to place on the stereo and a couple of good books.
I am so amazingly boring. But not necessarily alcohol free.
And also, I love any post that includes a reference to Oliver Reed.
I have had to go all Gigglewick and slow WAY down and I have enjoyed resting at home with a couple of good books watching the Holdenburg floating through the sky.
If only Oliver Reed were the anti-me.
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