A baptism of boredom
Trip Start May 27, 2010
97Trip End Aug 31, 2011
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Hang on, it wasn't that uneventful... On Friday at work we had two fire drills, one in the morning, one after lunch. When we went back up after the first one, the office all of a sudden became steaming hot, again. I wondered for a bit whether there had in fact been a fire, and the soaring temperatures were the result, and that the fireys had missed it. I was pretty quick to dismiss that theory, having managed to live through the heat in the office before. They seriously need to think about sacking the airconditioning man because he's not doing a very good job. Through the generosity of a co-worker I was given a desk fan to try to cool me down for the rest of the day. Little did I know that when I met Phil later that day I had little black dots all over my face, a result of the dust on the fan blowing into my face and getting stuck in my makeup!
It wasn't until we arrived at the Lord Clifden and sat down with our first icy cider that Phil had pointed out the imperfections on my face and I was very swift in reaching for my compact mirror to wipe them off! We had dinner, a few icy ciders and a spot of geek-watching while keeping an eye on the soccer, before saying g'day to the regular old boys and heading home for an early night.
I was up bright and early on Saturday morning - 8am to be precise. It was only because I had offered to do a few hours of overtime at work. So I got up and got myself ready and my driver, Giles, dropped me off at Brindley Place so I could go up and bash out some letters from the typing pool. Three hours later I wandered up the street to New Street station, via McDonalds and through hoards of Saturday shoppers which saw me becoming increasingly infuriated. So much so that by the time I met Phil at the station I was on the verge of tears with the stress of it all! What's wrong with me! Have I been out of London too long? Have I lost the power to elbow people out of the way and get to my destination without any interruption? Perhaps I was just irritable that day and wasn't prepared for the New Street onslaught. Whatever it was, the shoppers and sightseers (there weren't many of those!) really got up my nose, and reminded me why I avoid crowded places and shopping centres.
The Virgin Train ride was a good one, quick as per usual, and saw Phil and I reminiscing about the days not so long ago when we would have to get the train to see each other on weekends, and feeling grateful that we don't have to do that anymore. We checked into the hotel and had a rest for a little while before jumping back on the tube to Angel where we would meet Steve et al for his 30th birthday drinks. It was good to catch up and have a few drinks with the old housemates, and convince them that they should all come up to Birmingham one weekend for a tour de pub. Their arms were twisted and hopefully it wont be long before we are graced with their presence!
I must've done a fair number on myself though because at about midnight I was sitting with my eyes half closed, the top eyelids bearing down to meet the lower lids. They were destined to be together. But I fought through the 6.5% Weston's Organic haze and finally prized my eyes open and was able to carry on. When we did decide it was time to go we made a pitstop at the kebabo over the road, and taught the kebabo-man the finer art of making a kebab burger. I remember the meat was good...
We were lucky enough to get the night bus back to Waterloo and then crashed in the hotel until the cleaners yet again bashed on the door to suggest a room clean. There's nothing more frustrating than being woken on a hangover by a cleaner who doesn't realise you don't check out until 12pm. Urgh. So then after drifting back to sleep for a bit, we went straight back to Euston and stuffed some Nandos down our throats, got a Krispy Kreme for the journey home and got the train back to Brum.
Arriving home at 3pm, we had to quickly get ready for Matilda's christening at 4pm. I can tell you now it's been a while since I went to a christening, if in fact I've ever actually been to one. I can tell you further that there is a reason I haven't attended a christening in some time: it's because they're BORING. Add a christening to a hangover and what do you get? A vile concoction of boredom. Whilst I can totally appreciate that christening one's child and allowing them to be a child of God is a sentimental and traditional thing, the ceremonies themselves are dull and outdated. Although Philo did tell me about a christening he once went to where the black minister asked the congregation to sing nursery rhymes. Now that would've been entertaining!
In any case we followed up the christening with a couple of drinks at the function room the parents had booked, and then set off home, tired and craving Chinese.
It was an exhausting weekend, but I was grateful for the opportunity to catch up with the boys in London and get away for a night, even if it meant topping it off with a christening. Note to self: for the next christening, make sure to still be drunk rather than hungover. That way it is bound to be more interesting.
(And on the topic of babies, congratulations to my good friend Linda who is a dedicated reader,and her husband Brandon on the arrival of their little boy, Sonny. Love love love the name!)