thursday already?

The week began with an unscheduled chilli feast at the Catster’s where I bored her rigid with talk of agents (yum, my favourite people) and the live music industry. It was all in aid of her SJ application, another secret in her complicated web of intrigue. Ssshh.

Tuesday took a on totally unpredictable shape. Like Jimbob we are winding down at work and the WB felt like bunking off and suggested a card session down the pub. I logged off my computer immediately as this has never happened before, well not at 3pm in the afternoon and I grabbed DJ Boyo. Cards are better with 3 OK. We played all sorts and I realized how much I miss Perry, my old card partner. Fortunately for me my hollow legs were functioning at top level and I fully recall the evening as something resembling:

Illegal gambling in the pub where I introduced the term ‘poker face’ to DJ Boyo and explained that grimacing when you see what card you’ve just picked up is bad. I recall saying “don’t show me your cards” a lot until the very last game when I openly cheated.

WB left around 8.15 I think

Me: “It’s only 8.30…Let’s go back to mine to play more cards. Blah blah”

8.31: DJ Boyo settles a hefty £80 bar bill and I popped to the offy to stock up on vodka and mixers

9.00ish The Disco rope lights are activated. The DJ in DJ Boyo is activated. The disco glitter ball and spotlight are activated. We danced in the Living Room Discothèque until I finally had to admit defeat and retire. For the benefit of the sharkster I should say that there was no funny business. We had a bloody marvelous night though but I don’t think it was a wooing situation. He did invite me to Berlin for NYE’s today though but I think it’s because another bad influence colleague backed out of the trip. Tempting but I can’t see it happening at all.

Although the night before had left me in such a good mood that I bought a Santa hat on the way to work and wore it for most of the day (with my huge grin) I was also very tired for my only actually scheduled event of the week. The Old Boss, his missus and the Foetus (as he calls the bump) were passing through town and hosting drinks in Hampstead. It seems that scans are very advanced these days and I was shown 3 close up portraits of the living thing that looks like an Alien. Its OK, they said it too. No eyes yet you see, just skull.

The only thing I did wrong, apart from yawn too much, was slightly miss time my stitches story. My scab fell off just as The Old Boss was tucking into Welsh Rarebit and The Missus into sausages. I told him all about my new hobbies and he is very proud, which of course means the world to me. It was a lovely evening and I was pleased to see them so happily married after 3 or 4 years. Ah. I was also pleased when his jet lag digged in at 10ish and I was able to flee to my bed for a much-needed 8-hour kip.

Tonight on the couch with my tea has been bliss although the deactivated Living Room Discothèque is still in a shocking mess. The coal fire and the whole room need to be cleaned, the ashtrays are full and my entire CD collection is on the floor. Everything’s in the wrong place! I have no clean clothes left to wear and my hair was due to be washed on Tuesday. I’m definitely staying in everyday for a month now!