Killer Tinsel

What are your top tips for alleviating post Christmas blues? Post festivities I usually spend the end of the holidays trawling charity shops and freecycle in the hope of cadging an unwanted Christmas gift. In the past I've picked up snug novelty slipper socks, aftershave sets and an assortment of kitchen implements and glass paperweights. Some I've used myself and others I've put aside for forthcoming birthdays. This year I'm stuck in work with no hope off tripping off round the charity shops. To make matters worse I was very nearly throttled by a folorn looking Christmas decoration clinging to the wall by it's last bit of Blu Tack gumption. In a rush to fix a photocopier jam I failed to notice the half strung decorations finding myself caught up in a web of red and silver bunting. So I pulled the whole lot down, tore the tinsel from the tree, ate the smashed chocolate baubles from the floor and bagged the fairy lights up until next year. Someone told me its bad luck but it made me feel a whole lot better!

Christmas with dad

Not much to report back on. Returned to work today after the festivities, reception is closed but they need one member of each team in the office to man the phone. I volunteered as I have little else to do and my internet is down at home. I always feel a bit deflated returning to work after Christmas, it's the same flat feeling I used to get when my dad used to remove his funny clown outfit at the end of my birthday parties as a boy. He made a good funny man did Dad, he still does. This Christmas Eve he bet me five quid that I couldn't balance a pint on the back of each hand, so there I was sat at the table in a packed pub balancing two full pints when he promptly walked out. I was sweating, trying not to spill any beer whilst slowly edging my hands from under each pint glass as he waved at me through the window and holding my wallet aloft in his other hand. Cheeky scoundrel then waltzed off to the next pub. I was stuck (and laughed at by a variety of people) for twenty minutes before one of the bar staff rescued me. In fact I was close to giving up and spilling the both pints of beer across the table, though the group of hard nuts sat across from me prevented that. I caught up with Dad further down the street where he bought me a drink, broadcasted the prank to anyone within earshot and gave me a friendly pat on the back. Little did I know that he was sticking a 'Kick me' sign on my back. Until the gang of hard nuts from earlier entered the bar and bgan treating my behind like a football. Dad's school boy pranks continued into Christmas day, I heard he loaded up his fiance's hair dryer with baby powder and being short sighted she didn't notice until she was enveloped in a cloud of dust and he presented me with a rogue chilli chocolate hidden amongst the Quality Street. He's a rum 'un, but I love him.

The works do

Holed up at home with a box of cut-price chocolate seashells and the radio for company. When I contacted work this morning my team leader was not best pleased, apparently everyone else made it to their desks despite the adverse weather. Well they would do wouldn't they? With their heavy sole boots and baggy hand knit sweaters. They dress for the arctic during a light wind or shower, so course they're going to stamp through the snow.
I am thankful for the snowfall though, I dreaded going to work today after Friday's works do. The food itself was relatively edible, as it was a veggie restaurant there was none of the reconstituted turkey nonsense. I had a nut roast with roast veg and traditional stuffing. Though I'm not sure where the 'traditional' bit comes from as it could have doubled as cavity wall insulation. The house white could have quite easily passed as vinegar, although many were on red wine and lager. After an hour of polite chat from the team and banter from the support workers the alcohol began to kick in and tongues loosened. As I was just a pint of light ale in I was able to enjoy the full spectacle of drunken colleagues without making a complete twit of myself. That was until two of the lads from head office came back to the table with shots of a pale green liquid which tasted not too dissimilar to cough medicine. Then it was 'Secret Santa' gifting. The edible underwear I gave to Helen, the new secretary from upstairs caused a real sensation. Everyone was in stitches, even the more 'right on' members of the team had a chuckle. Helen, who was already one bottle of wine in, kept giving me the eye for the rest of the night. It must have earned me some kudos as everyone was keen for me to carry on drinking with them post meal in a late night bar. That was when it happened, I'm not sure how but Helen was perched on a bar stool, I had just bought her a sweet white wine when she lurched forward. Thinking she was going to kiss me, I leaned in only for her to vomit all over my chin and chest, narrowly missing my mouth. The crowd around the bar parted and I am sure the music stopped. For thirty seconds everything fell silent, until she fell off the stool and wretched again. My colleagues ran forward to help her to the toilet. I was left stunned and stinking of sick. I never want to see that woman again.

Last Day with Lena

Tis a sad day. Not only has attendance at tonight's works do been enforced by unrelenting peer pressure from the team but I had to bid farewell to the lucious Lena from my language class today. She is returning to her native Greek town for the Christmas holidays and as we handed in our French assignments I could sense a feeling of warmth and longing in the way her fuzzy mohair cardigan brushed against my nylon sports jacket (dressing down today, for we must attend the works do straight after work). I longed to embrace her, brush her bushy hair aside, whisper sweet everythings into her large bejewelled lobes and whisk her off for half a light ale. But she merely took stride down the corridor, leaving the unmistakable scent of white musk in her wake.

Secret Santa

Sweated my way around the shops all weekend in search of a 'Secret Santa' gift. Last year I made a quick and easy purchase of a multi-pack of Polos (the receiver was - and still is - a little tainted in the breath department). An ideal gift, useful and easy on the pocket as they were on offer in the pound shop, two multipacks for a pound. I was pleased as punch but the recipient of the gift clearly wasn't. She caused a real scene after the staff meal, hurling brittle remarks and a spray of spittle in my direction. I wouldn't have minded but she could have done to have sucked a few mints beforehand. This year she has enforced a minimum Secret Santa spend of three pounds. I would have ducked out of this year's pointless proceedings but I have been allocated to buy a gift for the new agency secretary from upstairs. She is a little too ample and loud for my liking but I sense she has an attraction to me and I am strangely drawn to her. After five hours of pounding the high street I settled on a rather racy pair of chocolate knickers. If anything it should cause a stir when the festive mung bean bake and vegetarian vol-au-vents fail to deliver!

Stench

Arrived at work today with an offensive stench eminating from my rucksack. After emptying the entire contents of my bag across the desk I came across three pork and stuffing sausages I purchased at the market last week. No doubt they had been gently warmed on a daily basis by the floor level heating close to my desk. I had to dispose of the foul meat in the bins outside, such was the smell. And here's me checking my shoes for the past three days thinking I've stepped in dog dirt.

Xmas Do (n't)

Spent the entire day at work dodging the question 'Are you coming to the do?' Its that darn time of year again when I'm forced to smile through gritted teeth and endure the bilious chat of people who bore my socks off. Thankfully last year The Team located themselves at the opposite end of the table so I wasn't able to eavesdrop on their idle chatter about cute furry animals, civil partnerships and ecologically sound sanitary protection. In fact I was seated so far away from them I was practically sat alone, yes I do remember indulging in a second helping of nut loaf and braised greens without comment from anyone, I can safely say I spent a majority of the last works Christmas do in silence. I merely soaked up the lukewarm atmosphere which heightened only when Marcus, senior solicitor, dropped his wine glass on the floor. I went home relatively sober and thirty quid out of pocket. I am hoping that I can come up with a convincing excuse to get out of this year's proceedings. Shaun, the great oaf from my French class, informed me yesterday that you can tell when a person is lying because they add more detail to the lie. This was when I was explaining to him that I couldn't join him for a pint after class as I had a joint of chicken defrosting in the kitchen and I'd put a selection of root vegetables on a slow roast. I think it was the list of said vegetables which gave the game away. So I must come up with a less elaborate white lie to get out of this year's dreaded Christmas do.