Listen to me, I don’t want your labels, especially at Christmas. Now can we get back to the drinking games, please?
That’s better I am filling up on lemonade with real lemon slices and ice cubes. It’s excellent. My bottom has fallen to sleep once already, but right now it feels like it could go for a few more hours. Bring on more food. Bring on more lemonade!
Its like tuning into the chat session of Newsnight. Economics is flying this way, politics that way. I listen in mild incredulity and am glad I checked the news pages at least twice before the big day or I wouldn’t have had a clue what they were talking about. Donald Trump is a you know what! My generation this, my generation that.
I could do with a walk. I get up and stretch about the hall letting the blood return to my extended legs and ankles.
I feel more than mildly happy having filled my repaste once I am now in happy anticipation of doing the same again.
But all good things must come to an end. And it’s now time to go home.
It’s like packing for holidays as everyone loads up their belongings which I then carry through to the car. Its a slow goodbye which makes the parting fonder as we wish goodnight to another year. New years wish too.
We cramp ourselves into the car at some time past midnight and the sound of directions being given makes it all seem a bit artificial. But that’s it now, in the dark, we travel with our own thoughts on the way back home.