Should All Cigarettes Be Forgot And Never Brought To Mind

It's NYE! As they probably say in NY (North Yeovil).

That'll be a night getting wrecked then. Getting wrecked isn't anything to particularly shout about but the truth is it's a given that I will get wrecked tonight. And this being a factual blog means it is worthy of mentioning. This isn't a factual blog in the sense of telling you what Cobra's drink or how the hell amino acids could have turned into something as grotesque as Jeremy Clarkson but it is factual in the sense of what I get up to on Fridays and if that involves getting wrecked I won't shirk from the truth in fear of being considered a 'lad', an alcoholic or an 17th century ship after a night in highly turbulent waters.

I digress.

It's NYE and yes, indeedy do, I have a New Years Resolution. It's an obvious one. I'm going to give up the smokes. But get this people of 2010 - I'm going to start this not in January but on New Years Eve itself - the one night I can guarantee I'll have a rolly or ten. In fact everyone smokes on New Years Eve don't they? I bet even Esther Rantzen sucks on a Consulate in between necking cava and chomping on a carrot that looks like a penis.

My thinking goes something like this. If I can resist smoking on this of all nights then surely I can resist any night. It's a test right in at the deep end. Hardcore tactics. If I succeed tonight I can take from it the strength required to never smoke again.

Postscript

I did it. The whole night through to dawn without a fag. January 16th was another matter though.

Baby Jesus or Baby Hell?

Most people aren't working today for Baby Jesus related reasons. Tomorrow is his birthday and being Jesus he likes to have a good three day knees-up to celebrate. I feel like a touch of blissful Yuletide solitude so decide on a semi-remote countryside walk on a white canvas near parentsville (Leicester). Just me and the footprints left in the snow behind me. Possibly the odd robin or jackdaw for company with a 50% chance of bumping into Alan and Diana Bushringer walking their huge doberman, who will inevitably come charging towards me as if I'm a human shaped can of Pal with pig's ears and cat's livers hanging off me.

As the top of Thurnby Hill teases itself into view, it's chief resident, The Rose and Crown cries out a verse of 'Come and have a nice pint and a bowl of soup'. Belting out a chorus of "Right you are, be there in ten" I receive a call on my Nokia 6440. 

It's a 40-year-old friend of mine who hasn't got kids. I too am 40-years-old and haven't got kids. Christmas is all about kids. We have an earnest conversation about being 40 and still not having kids. We conclude that we are both happy (separate happiness's) with this and that being so accustomed to the freedom we both have now (separate freedoms) puts us slightly in fear of the change having kids (separate kids) would bring. Needless to say if it's with the right girl (separate girls) and there's no MacDonalds, relentless shouty telly, plastic crap obsessions or Centre Parcs involved then maybe it will be alright.

I bid my 40-year-old friend a hearty farewell and enter the Rose and Crown for a nice pint and a bowl of soup.

Business Dinner Awards Results 2010

Best Designer Award
Adrian (3rd year running)

Worst Designer Award
Dave in Accounts

Greatest Fear For 2011 Award
It is announced that hallumi gives you cancer

Funniest  Moment Award
Telling a client over the phone that my pig had just come out. This actually happened last year but there was no category for it then

Greatest Contribution Made By An Imaginary Member Of Staff Award
Dave in Accounts

Best Landlord Award
Barry

Best Working Attire Award
Mustard & Green Striped t-shirt, grey Thai fisherman’s pants, barefoot

The Kieran Stiles ‘He Just Likes A Mention Somewhere’ Award
Kieran Stiles

Best Soft Drink Award
Fentiman’s Ginger Beer (3rd year running)

Biggest Internet Distraction Award
No distractions. I'm 100% focused on my work.

Strangest Moment Award
Catching a spider and a wasp in the same glass

The Doughs And Don'ts Of Secret Santaring

Been invited to my old work's Christmas do. Secret Santa time looms. When one has more time on one's hands one can spend more time going about this task. I remember the days when I had no time and would just buy whoever a pair of yeti feet slippers. Actually there was that one year I bought Toby in accounts a normal pair of slippers. He'd probably have found yeti feet ones an abominable gift as, ironically, they only do them in small to medium sizes and he's got really big feet.

So I'd drawn the lovely Dawn out of the hat. I thought to myself "Well, I know the lovely Dawn likes three things - melting moment biscuits, the TV series Red Dwarf and small cuddly toys that look like hybrids of bears and rabbits. I opt for the melting moments. I skip into the village and The Melting Moment Biscuit Shop. Can you believe it - out of stock! They suggest I make my own. Cracking idea! Much more personal. I could even make my own witty label, like a picture of Chewbacca's body with my head superimposed and 'Adrian's Wookiee Cookies' written underneath (in Comic Sans so she knows it's a joke).

I've never made biscuits before so it gives my 'Use Fridays To Pursue New And Exciting Pastimes' category a much needed boost. I hummed my way over to the library and found a recipe, bought all the ingredients from the local Melting Moment Biscuit Ingredient Shop, which thankfully wasn't out of stock, and spent the afternoon baking.

Et Viola! 12 Melting Moment biscuits. It's just a shame Dawn couldn't make it to the do and so will have to receive them in the post, by which time they'll be as stale as a pancake. I take solace in Shakespeare who so prophetically once wrote "The course of true biscuits never did run smooth".

A Heart-warming Tale Of The 21st Century

I wake up on a couch. Dribbling and everything. It isn't my couch. It's a London couch. A slender and spectacled man stands over me and stares. I don't know him. He doesn't know me. I guess he's one of my friend's house mates.

I quickly raise a friendly hand and say, "Hello, my name's Adrian. I'm your house mate's friend."

I fear at this point he may say, "Are you indeed? Well, cock-a-doodle-do. He has no right to allow strangers to sleep on our couch, especially without notifying any of us. Get your trousers on, your stuff together and get the hell out. You're not welcome here."

But it's fine. He doesn't say that. In fact he's really nice and offers to make me a cup of tea. Human kindness still exists. Believe.