Okay firstly, apologies because it’s been simply ages since I posted anything here. Life gets in the way as always.
Secondly, more apologies to anyone KoL peeps thinking this post might be about them…..it’s not, although the majority of them ARE mad and many ARE usually drunk.
Saturday night was my annual pre-Christmas get together with the girls. There is a group of 7 of us who all used to work together at the same company and since all departing from that company, have somehow managed to stay in touch over the years, meeting every few months to celebrate birthdays, Christmas, or to just celebrate full stop. It’s always a mission to find a date when we are all free but when we do it’s often a pure blast.
Except last year’s Christmas bash. That wasn’t so much a bash as a full on meltdown, courtesy of yours truly. In the grips of PND, fuelled by WAY too much wine (which I never usually drink) the dancing and merriment soon descended into mayhem as I vomited, sobbed and confessed how much of a screw-up I actually was (a fact I had somehow successfully managed to hide from most family and friends). Happy Christmas to me!
Since that night I could count on one hand how many times I have touched alcohol, terrified that it might send me spiralling downwards again and so it was not without some small iota of dread that I looked forward to this years get together.
And what a get together it was! There is always that first section of the night where we catch up on each other’s lives; work, relationships, holidays, children – all mixed in with A Very Important Discussion about our outfits/hair/make-up/accessories. Once the booze flows, so does the raucous laughter that I love so much. That’s something I love so much about my friends; no matter how different our lives have become, we still laugh the most tremendous belly-laughs until tears are flowing down our cheeks and the volume is always super-loud (much to the annoyance of the other diners). We talk weddings, men, food, babies, music, film, news. We gossip about ex-colleagues. We reminisce about when we used to work together. We talk a little bit more about men. Okay, so sometimes quite a lot more.
And this year, instead of ending the night with my head between my legs vomiting and sobbing in copious amounts, we ended it stuffed in the back of Karen’s car, singing BADLY along to Take That, Ol Dirty Bastard and R Kelly whilst she practised her police response driving.
I came home happy and thankful that I still have some great friends to share such great nights with.
Happy Christmas, ladies xxxx