There was definitely some raised eyebrows this morning when I walked in, and the conversation swiftly moved to “How’s day 29 going so far?” This is going to be relentless. When I walk into the kitchen the whispers stop, and people rush out giggling. It’s supposed to be work, not some support group for my painstaking restraints.
I’ve got a feeling it’s not going to get any better either. There’s already been discussions of ‘more short skirts and heels’ just to see what happens to me. I’ll tell you what will happen, I’ll be turning up to work in a blindfold and handcuffs… sounds worryingly close to how Max Mosely would go to work.
I’m looking forward to the Bank Holiday Weekender even more now. It’s going to spiral out of control fairly quickly with plans looking something along the lines of… Football tonight, a 6.30pm kick-off, which means hangover tomorrow morning. Local pints Friday night, nothing to strenuous with the groom I’m soon to be Best Man for. Saturday starts with a Birthday lunch, which just means early drinking. My partner in crime, I’m going to refer to him as Darragh (mainly because that’s his name) arrives Saturday afternoon, drinking shall be done in Borough Market, then off to see Noel Watson and Danny Krivit. Ouch. Sunday will probably taste like death, but I’m still holding out for the sun to be shining and everyone’s off to the Good Times fun bus at Notting Hill. Monday, exactly the same. Tuesday, probably suicide fairly early in the morning.
I can feel the hangover already. But there’s not a hope in hell I’ll be thinking of anything other than Redstripe and music for the next 72 hours, which can only be a good thing.
There’s nothing to report otherwise. It’s going to be a hellish 12 days at work, but one can always drink their way through that.
I was told yesterday that it would be good to ‘stay friends’…. I agree, but it’s a utter pile of shite that phrase. “Can we still be friends?”……. Fuck off. It’s like saying “The Dog’s died, but can we keep it?” Essentially what you want to ask is “If we bump into each other randomly somewhere, can we be civil?” Not a problem, just don’t expect a Christmas card.
