It's our team Christmas Party today and as I'll probably be inebriated by 7pm, I thought I'd take the opportunity to blog now.
Today it's bloody freezing and I'm on a half empty train waiting for the sensation that I actually have toes to return. All around my are the seasonal snifs and coughs, coupled with the rustle of The Metro and the all too frequent automated train announcement. I'm in the back row, wearing the red coat I liberated from the back of my wardrobe last night... It seemed more festive that the daily grey one. I have an all together over sized suitcase sitting on the floor next to me filled mainly with a tin full of left-over sliced Christmad cake, mini mince pies and satsumas from the party on Sunday! Next time I am at home it will be Thursday night and it will be officially Christmas.
But first, I have to endure the Christmas Party. Amazingly at 30, this isn't something I've done as a small team before, let alone my OWN team!
- how does one behave?
- is it ok to get inebriated?
- can one dance around the dancefloor to Dancing Queen or take over the Karaoke and still maintain her dignity at work the next day?
We shall see!
I had a very amusing conversation with my mother a few weeks ago when discussing Christmas parties. My mother's not old (59) or old fashioned, but she does often come out with the funniest statements: on telling her that partners are not invited to either my or my hubbies party, she almost fell off her chair
"I don't believe that, that's all wrong" she quipped. I was intrigued! She went onto tell me that it was completely inappropriate for wives not to be invited, as men can't be trusted. "All that flirting that's been going on in the office all year will come to a head and there will be people snogging and shagging all over the place!"
I haven't told her that we three girls have a room for the night...
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1 comment:
My top tip for Christmas parties when you're quite senior is to turn up, be nice and friendly and leave at a reasonable time. In reality I turn up, get way too merry, dance badly, tell people what I really think, throw up then leave. But here's the clever thing - you book the next day (or 2 preferably) as holiday. By the time you come back you're old news. Works a treat every time!
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