‘Tis the season to make merry and be jolly (but not too jolly) at office Christmas parties around the world. I am looking forward to hearing a few good stories about evenings that have gone a bit awry. We all know that the important thing is to avoid saying or doing anything you are going to regret in the morning, but it is of course too much for some people to bear (or bare). I will say from the offset that in my defence I am still catching up on work Xmas parties I missed whilst bringing up my children. So I get a bit over excited…and fail to pace myself.
I will start this year’s Xmas party stories off with my own. Which wasn’t a bad effort on the “OMG I can’t believe I did that” level of measurement. It started well. But I peaked too early. We started drinking prosecco pre our Xmas meal around 3pm. Had a delicious three course meal in the very cool Union Street Cafe, near where our office is:-
…and even had a surprise visit from the owner himself, Mr Gordon Ramsay which was lovely:-
So far so good.
We spent a lot of time in the downstairs bar there which is great – relaxed and shabby chic-esque and that is where things started to get a little confused. I remember relocating to another pub across the road and sitting with a group of colleagues outside. I was having a lovely time, but beginning to become aware that I was starting to talk absolute rubbish. So instead of waiting to go home with a number of other people who live near me, I decided to leave right then and get the train home, in order to avoid any embarrassing conversations the next day.
Still so far so good.
I thought I was reasonably OK on the train, I even got off at the right stop – which was an improvement on the last few times I was late out in London and fell asleep, missing my stop.
I do recall that the walk home from the station didn’t seem to go very well – I was a little bit boggley along the road and marginally surprised by this.
However, I got home in one piece and all was good with world….
…that is until my son, who let me in, started asking me where my bag was – with my phone, wallet, keys, diary, life in general all enclosed. All I’d turned up with was a canvas bag containing two right shoes and one glove. One high boot and one low boot. The two left shoes were on my feet – which I guess explained why I wasn’t walking very well. Everything else was gone.
Even worse, he video’d me trying to work out what I had done with my bag. Not a good look for a woman of my age – let alone when it’s your son who films you. This is when social media really sucks.
Anyway, the next morning I was full of shame and surprise as to how I had managed to lose my bag. We decided that I must have fallen asleep on the train and that somebody had stolen it. My day was horrendous. I was mortified and miserable to have lost everything and to have put myself in such a vulnerable position. Cross that I hadn’t waited for my friends and embarrassed about the whole thing. To make matters worse I then had to go to the police station to report it missing. The questions about which carriage I sat in and who else was on the train were a little vague to be honest. From there I had to go and sort out what to do about a new phone, cancel all my cards, and change the locks. A very expensive night out it transpired.
The following morning, now thinking with a clearer head, I began to question the whole scenario we had created. It was so not like me to lose things and I am quite sure that if I’d lost the bag on the train I would have been aware of it. So I decided I should retrace my steps (not in my two left feet) because maybe I had dropped it somewhere and maybe, if I was very lucky it was somewhere I would find, but out of sight from everyone else….
So off I went almost at dawn, in case I had to scrabble about in strangers front gardens, which is almost as bad a look as anyone who must have seen me walking home. Anyway, I didn’t have to go very far. My bag was sitting in the bushes in my front garden, just a few metres from my front door out of sight from everyone. I was so overjoyed to see it that I actually kissed it.
Just look at his cute little face…suspect he might have even walked home on his own!
Working through what happened I can only assume that I managed to drop the bag whilst trying to get my keys out and then my son heard the commotion and came out to find me.
Not my proudest moment by a long stretch but highly amusing to all my friends and even I don’t have any sympathy for what an awful day I had on Friday. Totally served me right.
Still, it could have been a lot worse – look what happened to poor Emeric:-
So what was your Christmas party disaster? Do tell…it’s only fair.
I also apologise wholeheartedly to everyone on my train who turned out not to be a thief. Life can sometimes be so much better than you think. Or in other words, you can actually be so much worse than your fellow commuters.