A Christmas cracker!

It was the works Christmas bash last Thursday – it has taken me this long to feel well enoguh to write about it – and oh, what fun was had.

As the department’s social secretary I felt duty-bound to get the party started by getting as drunk as a skunk before they rolled the main courses out. In fact, I’d been gearing up for it all day by wearing socks with mistletoe on, eating a Christmas sandwich for lunch and playing festive tunes while me and some of the girlies piled on the slap and pulled on our glad rags.

We supped cava before piling into taxis and plonking ourselves in the middle of the action at Bistro Live. What followed was a three course meal, copious amounts of alcohol, a lot of banter and even more dancing. Wicked! There was also a lot of photographic and video evidence proving how much fun we’d had. Seemed like a good idea at the time!

When the doors closed, a few of us just weren’t ready to go home and so ended up – God only knows how – at a place called Pink Punters, a lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender club. Not your average night out eh? And it was brilliant, if a tad on the quiet side. Must be Thursday nights. But the atmosphere was superb.

We bopped and bopped until our feet were black (shoes had been removed at this point) and made a few new friends, namely a guy in a mini mini skirt and huge platforms, a woman with a massive hole in her tights and a gay guy called Jay – very friendly and a tad competitive when it came to throwing out shapes with my mate Kath.

Anyhoo, highlights of the evening include:

• Gem banging her head on a speaker. Her shoes were so high she looked like a giant
• Kath’s dance moves – she’s so wasted in media relations. That girl was born to be on stage!
• The Christmas quiz that I put together. Much fun. Why did folk think Kath was the colleague who liked rugby, horses and Russian boobs? Worrying!
• Waving a flag at the dinner table when you needed another drink. Oh, the power
• Carrying Gem home, pulling her up the stairs to my apartment and leaving her in a crumpled mess outside the front door, her dress pushed up around her waist. Tres ladylike!

And the lowlights…

• Being included in rounds with two lots of people which cost me twice as much money and got me twice as drunk
• Dancing so much my feet were killing me and the soles turned black
• Spilling tea all over my very pale carpet at 3am and doing a very bad job of cleaning it up
• Going out on a Thursday night? What was I thinking? Serious hangover on Friday and major sleep deprivation

Funny Friday

It’s been a funny old day. It started at 7.30am by waking my buddy Absolute Gem up, who slept in my spare room last night after an evening of chilli-con-carne, wine and a semi-drunken discussion about chavs and snobs, while watching a TV documentary.

After dressing, piling on the slap and scoffing breakie, we headed south on the M1 to Toddington Services, where we totally failed in getting interesting video interviews for a work project. A wasted morning, although the bickering banter we captured while driving along the M1 was certainly mildly amusing.

Then it was lunch with two journo buddies. All three of us have a warped sense of humour and we spent the time rocking in our seats with laughter, tucking into some top eats and generally putting the world to rights.

After yesterday’s bad news, this is just the day I’ve needed – one spent laughing – and I’ve no doubt this will continue this evening at my friend’s pyjama party. This involves slobbing around in our jim-jams, eating comfort food, wearing no make-up and donning face masks while gossiping and guzzling wine.

As Bob Hoskins once said in the BT advert: “It’s good to talk.” But it’s even better to laugh.

Here’s some footage from the Toddington trip…

Am I playing the wrong sport?

At volleyball training last week I did something I don’t usually do. I dived. However, this painful act of movement wasn’t in the usual context of playing volleyball.

Our coach decided to make us play a game, for fun. Two teams of girlies stood in a line at opposite sides of one end of the court, and as he kicked a volleyball down the court you had to race each other to see who would get to it first.

Now then. Although diving in volleyball is something I don’t do because it’s very painful, I am very competitive when it comes to one-to-one stuff. When two people are involved, second means last and I don’t do last.

So, firstly I surprised people with my speed (I used to be a sprinter but tend not to utilise this skill in volleyball) and secondly, I shocked people with my diving skills. The best way to stop someone else getting the ball, particularly if they’re behind you, is to dive on it.

Whereas in volleyball you dive forwards (smacking all vital body parts on the floor) in this game I dived sideways to protect the ball, therefore landing on the padded areas of my thighs and butt cheeks. It still bloody hurt but not so much as to stop doing it. We did it about 10 times and I won every round. In the last round I was rewarded with cheers of “Go Robyn, go Robyn, go Robyn” as I lunged to to the floor for victory, emerging as the hero of “the silly ball game”.

Although I walked away with a grazed elbow, a bruised thigh and someone’s footprint embedded on my shin, I did feel pretty good about being undefeated. Maybe volleyball isn’t the right sport for me? Perhaps I should take up rugby?

Roll on August

I am very much looking forward to August because by the first day of the month I will have handed over my latest stinky assignment and my fate will be in the hands of the public relations experts who mark it. So, this weekend will be a miserable one spent slaving over the laptop, but come next week I’ll be smiling again. Here’s why:

• Works social – beers and banter with my work buddies
• Hair cut and colour – much needed as I can barely get a brush through it at the mo and it looks like straw. Might be brave and do something different
• Girly weekend with LJ and a couple of the volleyball girls – this will involve wine, nice food, chilling out, hanging by the lake and arranging the volleyball club’s social diary for the year ahead, yay!
• The start of pre-season volleyball training after a couple of months off. Can’t wait to get back on the court, see my volleyball chums and wind the coaches up in my usual jovial way
• Lunch in very posh restaurant Firenze, Leicestershire, with my mate. We won it in a raffle and have £80 to spend on fine wine and dining and no doubt will continue the drinking in my pal’s local
• Best mate’s birthday bash in Brum – a gang of us will rocking in our chairs with laughter at the Glee Club before hitting a dancefloor somewhere
• Coast to coast bike ride in aid of Cancer Research. Now, I won’t actually be cycling (that would be madness) but am part of the support team and this means four days of taking the piss, putting up tents, having a laugh and…oh yes.. motivating the team of cyclists. Always forget that one
• Three days off work for which I have made no plans. That’s three days to do with as I please, freedom!
• Bloater’s hen weekend in… actually I can’t say where as she might read this and it’s a surprise, but it involves three nights in a cottage, a heart pumping activity, a chilled out activity and a night on the tiles
• Four-day CASE conference in Brighton for work. Me and work pal CK are gonna network, soak up some new knowledge and wear ball dresses to the gala dinner. All true, except that last bit
• Relay for Life 24-hour sponsored walk which will be done in nun outfits as our team is called the Peshwari Nuns. And we’re gonna run a stall selling curry. Cool or what!

Yep, I think that’s enough to be getting on with. Just need to get this last week of July out the way – and then the fun begins!

Beach volleyball a bit of a washout… almost

I went to a beach volleyball tournament in Bridlington at the weekend – my first taste of volleyball with the sand between my toes.

Now, I knew the weather forecast was for rain, rain and more rain, but as it was a scorching day on Friday when we began our journey up north, I just refused to believe the weather could be that bad. Mistake. My bag-load of vest tops and suncream proved as much use as a chocolate fireguard; what I actually needed was waterproof clothing, thermal underwear and goggles.

Anyway, it was still an absolutely wicked weekend and much fun was had by all. It’s not the weather that makes a tournament, it’s the people; and I certainly chose the right bunch. Here’s a summary of the highs and lows of Brid 2008:

Highs

• Our team calls. Named the Beauty School Drop-outs (all our teams had a Grease theme) our team – two boys and two girls – invented some tournament calls. These included “Cuckaberra” for good volleyball, “drop-out” for average volleyball, and “gum tree” for rubbish volleyball. Rubbish volleyballers are therefore called “gummers”.
• The lads made my flip flops into wedges using sand. Very creative and very funny but just not practical. I couldn’t walk in them.
• The campsite night spot called Makis. Pure cheese, pure fun. (Particualrly the girl band trio called Pure Adore who performed naff songs, in between arguing over dance moves and putting each other off, all done in plain hearing of their audience. That’s what happens when you talk into a microphone. Also lovin’ their bikini top/white combats combo. Chavtastic.)
• Mandy and Eddie’s combat dancing – in slow motion of course.
• Mandy’s singing. She can’t hold a note but she’ll happily sing in front of 20 people she only met the night before. Now that’s brave.
• Smooth skin. Water plus sand equals natural exfoliation and most of my body was covered in water and sand at some point. Even the inside of my mouth.
• My mate’s lap dance for her husband. Very professional, I can see a change of career on the horizon.
• Boycotting the dancing on stage ban. When the DJ’s back was turned we jumped on stage to do the YMCA actions and then jumped back down. Amazingly, the DJ never noticed.
• The funny things you can do with a battered sausage and two fishcakes.
• Electricity. Straightening your hair in a tent? Brilliant idea.
• Swooning over a 6ft 6ins guy, even if he only 21. Tres cute! And I have his phone number!
• Putting JM’s watch forward an hour when she wasn’t looking and her accusing us of all having cheap watches. Sucker!
• Our matching  T shirts – Pink Ladies for the girlies, T Brids (yes Brids not Birds) for the boys.

Lows

• Serving the ball and it landing behind you. No, I’m not a magician, it was just very windy.
• Having a snotty nose but no clean or dry hands to wipe it with. Sand everywhere!
• Playing volleyball with sharp rain bouncing off your face and every item of clothing sodden. Brrrrrr.
• The wedgy fight. Losing your knickers in a club is not cool, particularly if they were pulled off by a girl and were your favourites.
• Needing a wee in the middle of the night, having to undo three zips to get out of the tent and trek across the grass to the loos only to realise you’ve forgotten your access pass to the toilet block.
• Calling “mine” when a ball comes your way, only for the wind to blow it onto the arms of someone on the opposite side of the court.
• Hard to be fashionable on a volleyball court when it’s pouring with rain and blowing a gale. Cycling shorts and a waterproof jacket zipped up to the eyeballs is not a good look.
• The ducks waking us up early in the morning with all their quacking. Makes a change from the traditional cockerill I suppose.

May-hem – I can’t wait

I was talking to a work buddy today about my evil April and she cleverly suggested turning May into a month of treats. Kinda like compensation. What a good idea!

So, after a whole month burying my head in books May will be the month for having fun and letting my hair down. Plans include the following:

• A night on the tiles with my best mate
• Hen weekend in Nottingham on the theme of Pink Ladies (although this will involve ice skating, eek, not my favourite sport)
• A visit from Sambo and Bloater
• A Ladies Wot Dine event at my place (third in a series of dinner and wine events with the girls from work – it will probably involve singing too)
• Ceilidh in aid of Relay for Life (some volleyballers and co are arranging a series of super fun social events to raise money for a charity close to a friend’s heart, as he’s just been given the all clear from Leukeamia)
• Two Bank Holidays, which means two three-day weekends and two four-day working weeks, yippee
• Race for Life in Milton Keynes (running with some work buddies, helping with my pre-summer fitness campaign)
• Pyjama party with some of the Leicester girls. It’s my turn to host it I think (the last one involved our version of pin the tail on the donkey – using a cut-out willy – and pass the parcel with thongs as prizes. What fun!)
• The end of volleyball season means long nails can stay – book manicure
• Hair cut, colour and conditioning treatment. The straw look is not high fashion
• All the stresses and strains of work and study will fade away with a hot stones massage
• Sessions with the personal trainer, what a hottie! (Sorry, I didn’t quite get that move, can you show me again please?)
• Spending spree, investing in some summery outfits (hopefully Mr Sunshine will have shown his face by then), some Urban Decay make-up and what ever else takes my fancy
• Sunbed sessions – the pre-holiday preparation starts here, bring on the summer glow

Only 30 days to go….