“Aren’t we forgetting the true meaning of Christmas. You know, the birth of Santa?”
SO WE ARE ON THE RUN DOWN TO CHRISTMAS. THE NEXT FEW POSTS ARE NOT IN ORDER FOLLOWING THE STORY. I WANTED YOU TO KNOW WHY I FELL IN LOVE. SO LIKE FRUIT JELLIES OR BAILEYS IRISH CREAM, MORE THAN YOU WOULD NORMALLY HAVE.
A DECEMBER OVERDOSE OF ‘US‘.
Firstly, I wanted to tell the story of that first Christmas party.
No point telling you that when it’s the summer. Or Halloween.
Now seems to be the right time.
So these next few blogs are about that Christmas party with her.
We have all been to them. The works do where the whole office is forced, for one night, to try and get on despite having nothing in common for the other 364 days. Where we all barely hide our contempt for the people we work with and are forced to talk to their other halves, people we have even less in common with, who are more awkward than you, say less and get more drunk.
They are shown off like exhibits at Cruff’s, yet when it’s suggested partners don’t come, there is accumulated uproar.
And so bearing that in mind, this was the trepidation I went through when organising it. I didn’t want it to be lamer than a three legged donkey or wilder than a Doors gig.
So I tried to make everyone have a good time.
But then I accidentally made it memorable.
There was no vomiting in the foyer plant pot. Or urinating in the cloakroom, but those things that set you up perfectly for life.
This is the story…