Another Saturday Night

As I've observed once or twice in the past, I tend to enjoy staff parties. Of course, working two jobs means I get double the fun; you'd think I'd get bored of it after a while, but it hasn't happened yet. And so it was that I set out on the Trev Xmas bash with tremendous gusto.

Beginning with a world-class cheeseboard at The Sun, stopping via The Bobbin for a few games of pool, and ending at the Yorkie where I got the opportunity to wipe the floor with everyone at table football, the whole night was a pleasant blur of amusement, made all the more colourful by the blue lights the City Council have randomly decided to decorate the trees with.

Of course, it wouldn't be a staff do without someone taking centre-stage; on this occasion one of our lads who decided to make himself well-acquainted with Westons Vintage 8.2% cider. So well-acquainted, in fact, that after drinking half a dozen pints of the stuff at the kind of pace that would make a tramp envious, he sallied forth to have a lie-down in a nearby alleyway, and merrily regurgitate most of what he'd consumed in energetic intervals.

So it was that we found ourselves carrying our incapacitated co-worker home through the foggy city streets in the small hours, which was not so much the blind leading the blind as the pissed leading the completely and irremediably shitfaced. After a haphazard journey lasting about an hour, we got him home, and rang his girlfriend to deal with the finer points of getting him undressed and into bed. Job done, and with a whole six hours to spare before I had to be at work again. Ain't life brilliant?