another busy weekend almost over, but not quite, as I sit here awaiting chucking out time in the Prince Albert and the appearance of my young lovely.... Started off on Frtiday with Christmas drinks in Browns in Covent Garden with my team (couldn't afford the meal), continued through attempting to watch Goodbye Lenin on dvd, a bit of Christmas shopping, a great afternoon/night in the White Horse last night and then an early start to spend an hour in the company of 300 over-excited toddlers at "The Gruffalo live" this morning. I'm not weird, I had my four year old nephew (and his mum) down for the day as part of his chrissie pressie. Made the mistake of trying to take him into Hamleys for him to look round. We managed a very slow lap of the ground floor before making a meandering bolt for the exit again. Regent Street's lights were a hit though.
All of which has left me feeling a little bit pooped. And knowing that, rather than winding down in my last 3 pre-xmas days at work, I am going to be working like a bee-atch to get new reports rolled out before January, whilst feeling like I've had porridge syringed into my head in place of my brain. But what's the alternative? Tell my girlfriend she can't come round? What kind of idiot do you think I am?!
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