Notes on the arse end of MMVIII
Christmas Eve:
Morning at work. Secret Santa brings me real ale. Banana flavoured one is still in the fridge. William Hill offering 7/4 on it’ll still be there 24th December 2009. Leave work at lunchtime, for a quick pint in the Euston Way. I couldn’t relax. I still had half my Christmas shopping to do. Got train to Wellington, bought kitchen knives and a striped apron for the budding chef, Merk (couldn’t get one of those tall hats). Got taxi to the homestead and meet up with the rest of the family. Ignored the rest of the family as I’m in the dining room wrapping all the present snarling like a hungry doberman at anyone who approaches the door.
Christmas Day:
Ate and drank. Got my dressing gown, two scarves plus some interesting books. Watched Wallace and Gromitt and helped build Merk’s lego. Later on, we watched cricket with the sound down and listened to old songs and got squiffy on decent brandy from me grandad, once we’d prised the security tag off the top of the bottle.
Boxing Day:
Don’t recall much. Think I hit the brandy again.
Day after Boxing Day:
1. Cleaning = bad
2. Party = very good
I’m pretty sure there’s myriad photos abound on this here internet.
Day after day after Boxing Day:
Bleeeuuuurrrrggghhhhhh! And cleaning. Ah, the duality of life. Yin has Yang, Paul has Barry, so it follows parties have soul-crushing senses-raping regret-filled hangovers that even a footlong Italian BMT from Subways cannot placate. While trying to tidy up for the second time in two days, every empty bottle cast into the binbags thumped like a “special” child with a drum kit. Accompanied by the stale smell of last night’s beers, like ghosts reminding and taunting me with sordid tales of showing off and dancing like a dick to Spandau Ballet. This was probably one of the most difficult days of my life! I was glad when it was over.
Day before the day before New Year’s Eve:
Had to go into work to sort out a pesky client. Hung the Christmas gonk from the roof by his leg in a noose made of a rubber band while waiting for said pesky client. Went to Frankie and Benny’s for an eff-off big bowl of pasta.
Day before New Year’s Eve:
Not a lot. Finally wrote my top ten albums (see below).
New Year’s Eve:
Went to Maggie’s fancy dress emporium in Dawley for summat to wear for the evening’s party at the Crown. Bad start when I couldn’t find the bishop and decided not to bother. Wish I had bothered. Everyone looked great. Even Walt who I think came as Batman’s nephew. Still, everyone looks fuzzy after about ten on New Year’s Eve anyway. Great party, probably the best yet at The Crown.
New Year’s Day:
And so began the International Year of Natural Fibres (s’true) with another quality hangover. This one didn’t make my very aura ache so it wasn’t as bad. I went to watch Telford United play Stafford Rangers. They must have been hungover too as they lost at home for the first time this season. I should have stayed in bed. Watched Summer Heights High (pretty good) and The Wire (epic). I made no New Year’s resolutions, I merely planted little acorns of ideas such as eat more exotic animals and go swimming more often. I slept and then that was that for another year’s yule. A pretty good one this time. Just don’t ask the liver.
