It's Christmastime, there's no need to be afraid, at Christmastime we let in light and we banish pain.
Bah humbug.
I am really not into Christmas. I am not a Christian so I don't do the religion side of it, except that some of the best Christmas songs are a bit well, you know, religious. I'm not a Capitalist so I don't do the consumer bit of it.
If anything I am a Pagan. Not a real, initiated practising Pagan, nor indeed one who knows anything actually about proper Paganism. But I do like the Paganist concept of being in touch with the changing of the seasons and with nature, and celebrating significant times such as Yule. I believe that as well as being a Festival of Lights, Yule is also a time for eating, drinking and be merry.
There used to be a time where I had so many parties go to. Get-Togethers, numerous permutations on the office Christmas Party, various permutations of Labour Party Christmas Parties, often a house party or a piss-up down the pub, and Private celebrations. This year is quite quite different. Jimmy is working over Christmas. Work isn't all that. I mean it will be nice, six of us on our team are going for a meal, but there has been a general consensus not to have a Unit wide one, nor is there anything organised on a grander scale. There is a get together for connoisseurs of operatic furniture abuse. And that is about it.
I'm kind of feeling nostalgic for the old days of the NAO. Not Financial Audit, obviously. Nor management by fear, not that crap. But the sheer alcoholic hedonism that took place between the early-December end-of-exams and Christmas. My god, the times I was wasted. And combined with several Labour Party parties, I'm surprised I've still got a liver. One year I managed an section meal at lunchtime/mid-afternoon, a go to the pub to join several other post-lunch parties late afternoon/early evening and onto a CLP party until silly o'clock, with an Audit closing meeting and Full Council the next day. I lie about the closing meeting. And Full Council.
I used to have a very special skill especially at Christmas Parties. I could get very drunk very quickly. I could get very bladdered and still stay upright. I could get totally gazeboed, dance on the table, talk complete bollocks and still remain alive. I could carry on being that drunk for several hours, saying more and more incriminating things.
I have sometimes behaved quite shamefully at or after Christmas Parties. Well, I say shamefully, I have a bit of a secret to confess. Other than shooting my mouth off revealing the inner tortures of my Bridget Jones existence (this was when I was young, right), and, spewing up inappropriately...oh, quite a few of my readers have been to blogmeets, you get the picture...I have never done anything really bad.
I am beginning to regret the very many ways in which I didn't mis-spend my youth. I feel almost embarrassed admitting this, but I have never, in my entire life, as a result of a Christmas party, ended up have mis-judged unprotected sex. Nor have I even had well-judged protected sex. It's kind of embarrassing. I haven't even photocopied my arse or done a full striptease. I can live without the photocopied arse and the striptease, but I am regretting the lack of beer-goggled sex. The thing that is most depressing is that I try to imagine a situation where such a thing might inappropriately occur, obviously something like an office party. Well, believe you me, it ain't going to happen at a sedate meal for six. It won't happen if it that becomes a wildly inebriated meal for six, or for forty. I can't actually identify anybody in my entire workplace of 4,000 people whom I would target for inappropriate drunken sex. Well, apart from one of the Ministers maybe, but I mean, no, not really. And that isn't a reflection on my workplace, she says carefully, not entirely sure who reads this blog. The truth be told, I actually can't be bothered to have wildly misjudged sex, even though I regret never having done so when I was young.
So Christmas/Yuletide. No pseudo-Christianity, no orgy of capitalism (although, I went to Oxford Street on Thursday evening, it was so crowded, the queue to pay at Marks and Sparkles went twice round the shop, I wanted to go up to people, let them into a secret - there's a recession on, but I thought, no, why make it public knowledge), no real opportunity to get totally hammered and lie down on the floor of a leading Brixton bar-attached-to-a-night-club-not-at-all-far-from-the-Town Hall* and no opportunity to have a stupid shag with a random stranger.
* allegedly
