Sniffy Advent: Day the twentythird

Please, Sir, can I have some more?
It seems fitting that I've reserved this particular Dickensianesque tale of Christmas woe for today, the day of Base 2a's official Christmas meal.

Yes, on a day where most people go in for a couple of hours in the morning then fuck off home (or have already finished for Christmas), we're having our Christmas lunch. I wouldn't have bothered, but I'd have had to have taken a day's holiday otherwise.

So what's so bad about it? Well let's go back in time to my first Christmas here...

It was 22nd December, 2001 and I was loving my job, which I'd only started 6 months previously. The people here were OK, if a little strange, and I was looking forward to my Christmas lunch with them before heading up north for a weekend with my friends.

As usual, I'd got here at about 8am - at least an hour before any other fucker turned up - and the morning was spent with people in high spirits, listening to Christmas music and having a laugh. All the ladies were wearing their best glittery and sequined party clobber, flashing earings, tinsley deeley boppers that played music. How charming, how retarded, I thought.

We descended to one of the seminar rooms at 12.30, where we sat down for lunch. I managed to sit next to Ian, who was a good laugh, despite being a miserable bastard. We tucked into our turkey dinner (Ian had a veggie option) and the ladies got a bit merry on half a glass of cheap plonk, the Christmas music played in the background and the odd bad joke was told as the crackers were pulled apart.

As I talked to Ian, I had a look at his plate. I wondered what the strange-looking thing in his sprouts was; he separated it from the greenery for further analysis. It was a baby snail. Fantastic. Of all the people who could've got that, it had to be him. Oh how I laughed. He didn't.

So the wine flowed... well, the two bottles between the ten or so drinkers were emptied... and the ladies got silly. Linking arms, they danced around and sang along to the Christmas music. What a wonderful atmosphere. There was the not-so secret Santa gift exchange too - lots of toiletries in fake wicker baskets were passed around. Everybody was pleased. I can't remember what shit I was given.

Fuck me, I was dying there, but as 2pm approached, I was getting exciting about finishing and going to spend time with my friends.

With the plates cleared away, we made it back to our offices. I shut down my PC while the others continued their revellry and polished off the chocolates. At 2.30pm, I'd done my work for 2001, so I said my goodbyes and headed for the motorway, leaving the rest of them to finish up whatever they were doing.

On my return here after Christmas, I was approached by Trunchbowl (sorry, Trunchbull) from the library, she was holding my timesheet: "You took some time off and you haven't put it down on your timesheet."

"Y'what?"

"The day we finished for Christmas, you finished early, have you got any lieu time to take?"

"So, despite the fact that I get here an hour before everyone else, and I have to travel 30 miles to get here anyway, and it was Christmas, and my real line manager had already wished me Merry Christmas and told me to go home, and the fact that nobody was actually doing anything except acting the goat and eating chocolates. Despite all this, I need to take holiday for those two hours when the rest of you were pissed and dancing around the offices?"

"Yes."

Cunt.

So today is our Christmas do. They leave it till the very last day possible before Christmas and it's not the done thing not to come. So here I am. On a day when the ladies are dressed in their party best, I look like I've just walked off a building site: jeans, Docs, jumper. I have my camera and there may be photos later.

Two hours to go, I can't wait!


Post "do" fatigue
Well, I got out of there in one piece.

Today's do didn't start until 1pm - Trunchbull had agreed to put back the start time so somebody could come late (nothing to do with her wanting to ensure that we were there at least an hour later than usual).

We had the "Dancecraze" DVD to keep us occupied until then. This is a DVD that's supposed to show people the steps to famous "formation dancing" songs, like the Macarena, YMCA and the like. Check this out:

Don't tell her heart

Achy breaky

I'm sure those girls have made several appearances in other DVDs too, only not the sort that you'd show at a Christmas do.

The food was finished by 1.40pm, then it was time to exchange gifts. Not too bad; a hamper of Italian-style snacky things (and some booze that I can give to somebody else). And just when I thought it was time to escape... Bingo! Yep, they had us playing two rounds of bingo. Christ.

I managed to get out of there by about 3.15pm, by which time, the traffic on the motorway had started to build up. Thanksverymuch.