Last night I went to a redundancy party. My old magazine's sister (mother? baby?) publication has closed down. No more this first rate communications title.
When I first mentioned this to you, following my breakthrough/breakdown, I had a complete sense of humour failure. In her invitation email Anne had called the evening a Wake, not a redundancy party.
A Wake! Good name! I had just gone through what I thought might be my 'rebirth'. A Wake for my old self! With my old pals! That would have been the joke had I not had my complete sense of humour failure. (No, I'm not laughing either, possibly due to the hangover)
So yes anyway, last night, my neighbour kindly, kindly babysat for me so I could go on this rare week day treat.
Great to see familiar faces of days gone by. Great catching up with what everyone was up to.
A Wake for my old self?
Sadly not. I got as pissed as a fart.
(Wonderful expression that. One day I shall endeavour to find out where it comes from.)