I hope you’ve been thoroughly spoiled by all ragamuffins big and small.
Indeed she is. She really, really is.
Hey now, did I ever tell you about the Office Christmas Party? About how I got merry on the night-long free bar? How the American-themed Canapés just totally hit the stomach-lining spot? How I found myself shimmying across the dance floor, with no reserve whatsoever, for virtually the entire night (a rarity to say the least)? Did I also never tell you about how amusing the taxi ride home was? How noisily I crashed through the front door of the brother’s abode at 3am? And how thankful I was to get off the Overground into some fresh air the next morning? Because any longer and…
Well, I hereby tell you that the Office Christmas Party was off-the-scale good. Epic, in fact. Epic. And here’s the evidence to prove it.
All photos copyright The Photo Emporium who were, from what I recall, ridiculously fab. Happy, helpful, the works.
The Number One Chum’s Birthday is 31st December, thus every New Year is a guaranteed celebration of some sort. And this year the big 2-0 called for a flying visit to my favourite place in the whole entire world for a big old civilised lunch with great school chums. The morning kicked off with a croissant breakfast (with my eagerness to eat said croissant resulting in a very scolded mouth. Ouch.) and the opening of a pressie or two. Lining the stomachs in preparation for the evening’s somewhat more raucous shenanigans, a hearty Shepherd’s Pie was served up for the birthday luncheon, followed by Mummy Patti’s legendary Hedgehog Cake. So YUM.
With hours of gossipping had and birthday fizz sipped, it was time to jump in the car and whizz down the M5 to Bristol. Speaking of which; is it me or does the M5 have, quite possibly, the worst lighting in the history of motorways? Honestly, it’s just as well I consume carrots by the crate-load or we’d probably be hospital bed-bound by now. Moving on, a mutual chum’s B-E-A-U-tiful (the sort that has one giddy with excitement upon stumbling through the door) maison was the chosen destination for the evening’s events. Further stomach lining involving a rather delicious dish of beef with potato and celeriac dauphinoise (just so good) entailed, before gladrags were pulled on and super sexy red lippy applied.
Already merry on Champagne (one bottle each to be precise, ahem), we stopped at a wine bar in Clifton before falling into a club with just enough time to ring in 2013. With many a dance move thrown and shot swigged, we returned to Maison Beautiful to join the ever so fabulous black tie dinner party hosted by Mutual Chum’s Elder Sister. And here things continued to get merrier (and messier) into the early hours of New Year’s Day. Only at 7:30am were the party shoes hung up and beds collapsed into. And that’s just the half of it.
Needless to say, it was an absolutely cracking night.
Here’s hoping the rest of 2013 continues in a similarly stupendous style.
Happy New Year!
Christmas 2012 was, indeed, a festive feast of family, food and fun.
Oh my goodness gracious me has the festive season been a whirlwind of (mostly) fabulous family gatherings. And quite possibly the greatest knees up of all time ever was had yesterday. Presecco-fuelled, my Granny’s 84th Birthday was celebrated with an absolutely bloody brilliant shindig at my Auntie and Uncle’s house- one awaiting renovation, for those eyes widened by that beaut wallpaper.
Born entertainers, get-togethers hosted by this particular pair always have me giddy with excitement; they’re guaranteed good’uns. As mere kiddiewinkles, Uncle G was ‘the cool one’; the one that bought us the nosiest toys, took us to the funfair late at night and allowed us ice creams as large as ourselves. Following a popping of a particular question, my now-Auntie S made a childhood bridesmaid dream come true just as I thought it was too late. And the cherry on an already delicious cake; I was given the humbling role of Godmother to little miss Grace Sienna; the first of two very gorgeous cousins dropped by the stork.
So it’s hardly surprising this birthday bonanza was of the sort that begins at a tame two o’clock in the afternoon, grows gradually more raucous as time ticks by and ends at a merry one in the morning. No, no, that was absolutely not me comatosed in the back of my (sober) cousin’s car as we sped down an empty M25.
Lord only knows how many tipples washed down a rather stupendous party spread, but the hoots of happiness and declaration as the “best birthday ever” from Granny seemed to suggest this family of party people really had put on a good show.
Bravo to those jammy buggers and happy birthday Granny Pippa!
If this weekend is anything to go by, twenty will be one heck of a happy year. Juicy scoop to follow shortly; for now I must bask in the remaining hours of Birthday Girl glory. Indeed, I must.
Before I do dash, I thought it might be worth mentioning that, no, that piece of sentimental bling on my finger is- in fact- not an engagement ring. You would not believe the scores of congratulatory reactions such an accessory (on the wrong hand) has provoked. For a time I actually had to replace it with something more cocktail and less bride-to-be for fear it was putting off the evident hoards of potential suitors, it got so serious. Sadly this change didn’t result in the hotly-anticipated (by those other than myself, I hasten to add) flock of mighty fine monsieurs (feel free to wheel out your string quartet and play a sorrowful tune) and I missed it hugely, so the rock was reinstated.
After all, distinguishing between your left and right is quite high up on the list of Suitor Criteria…