Partay!

Never again will I mock the hangovers of others. Never again will I loudly crash around, pouring scorn on their aching heads and weary bodies. We had our work Christmas bash last night and the vodka was flowing a little too freely in my direction: my headache has only just receded and I'm as wobbly on my feet as a day old gazelle. David was fairly sympathetic between half seven and ten to nine this morning but then went into the "told you so" smug mode. "I did say that you should have eaten something before you went out" he said as he made me drink an Alka Selzter.

It was a good night though, stuffy consultants lost their inhibitions, surly ward sisters were seen to be smiling and our manager, who has been a vegetarian for five years, cracked and ate a chicken drumstick after slurping back nearly all of the famous Hospital Punch. I only left the dance floor to go to the bar and gossiped the night away with people who were amazed to see me back in the fold and demanded on a nearly four year catch up. Hard to do when you're giving it your all on the dance floor to Shakira.

I've got another two Festive Fridays to come: next Friday is David’s work do at a swanky restaurant (if only I could remember its effing name) and on the 21st the Stewarts are throwing open their house for all manner of festive frolics. David’s “do” will consist of the directors and their wives, no “underlings” allowed. This information was imparted to me by David’s PA (a lovely lady called Iris who swears like a trouper but turns into Doris Day when faced with authority) when I rang David earlier. “We’ve all been shunted off to the nearest crappy dive for our party” Iris huffed “still, at least they’re f***ing paying for it”. I plan to wear my gorgeous lovely shoes and David has already asked me to charm the MD into upping the Christmas bonuses. This may be a mistake and the directors could end up owing the company money. It’s nice to know that he has faith in my charm skills though.

The Stewarts are harking back to their days at Mermaid Court when “the whole cul-de-sac trooped through our house” and are hoping to recreate it in The Avenue. Jane Opposite (she’s been away having plastic surgery - her newly modelled and enlarged chest arrives ten minutes before the rest of her) has deemed it the perfect opportunity to “unveil these puppies in me Versace knock-off”. Jill With The Purple Door is making her famous mulled wine and Frank is bulk buying mistletoe.

I plan to stay at home with Mac and send David and Amelia (she arrives on the 21st and is staying until well into the New Year - I may will need therapy) whilst playing the “I’ve got all these presents to wrap so I can't possibly come” card.