I am a widow/er home alone tonight. It is R's work christmas bash at Jimmy Watsons in Carlton. I said that it sounded very staid and boring. He thought that it is a young person's venue. I eagerly await the report.
I forget when my work bash is. I don't go anymore. It is in a church hall and the food will be wonderful. Light beer and even cheaper wine than I drink will be served. I have enough Indian friends at work to chum up and share their supply of whiskey outside, but I have to work the next day, so can't do that.
I went to R's work bash one year and I was bored stiff with all the shop talk. He came to mine one year and was just as bored with my shop talk. I am such a shallow butterfly anyway. I flit from one to another because I get bored easily and then realise I have chatted to everyone and retire to a corner. I am a lousy party person unless I know people well.
Ah, the work parties of old, when there was a pianist and drums or a band. Sexual tensions brewing over the past year were quickly resolved. Ah, the clarity of memory there. Straight guys can be so good after they have had a drink or five.
There were always at least two fights. One year was extra good when not one but two different gay guys knocked out two different straight guys. I retreated and observed from a corner and busily filed my nails. The bruises and cuts on various people became evident at work over the next few days.
Another old work ex mate died today. He was only early fifties. He was Indian and very nice looking and tall and with a nice build. I had not seen him since he was about forty, but I remember him fondly. He was such a nice guy, one of those really genuinely nice people . He died of Motor Neuron disease. So sad. Vale Nanda.