Some Sensible Architects Share A Meal

After the moustacherie madness of Movember came the Office Christmas Bake-Off …
And after the Office Christmas Bake-Off came the Office Christmas Lunch.
And immediately after the Office Christmas Lunch came the Office Christmas Party, but fortunately (being Dive … see old Christmas Party posts) I managed to skip out before that happened.


First up: the winner of the Office Christmas Bake-Off:

Hail the conquering hero comes! Yes, Adrian (he of the Christmas Village) did indeed walk away with the coveted chef's hat for the 2010-2011 season. Luke (he of the poo-covered dog biscuits) proudly lifted the wooden spoon. Cassie's gingerbread witch's cottage took second place and Erin was too confused and flustered to announce the rest of the results but I shall try to find out where I came later.

After that, things became pretty much of a blur …

There was booze …

Lots of booze.

Things started quite sedately with a nice lunch.

The parsnip soup was yummy.

But then Santa came, bearing gifts and … er … elastic band guns.

The man in the Santa hat is a senior partner and my immediate boss.

Staying sober was tricky, but somehow I managed it. This was lunchtime and they'd booked the rooms until eleven at night and a lot of them were then going clubbing. I think it's going to be pretty quiet and lonely in the office this morning.

Girls will be girls.

Some more than others.

Give an architect cranberries and a couple of scoops of ice cream and inevitably there will be boobs.

We're a classy bunch.

Sophisticated humour is our forte.

That, and aeronautics.

Secret Santa shares our exquisite taste.

Willie racing was still going on when I left.

Girls and Guns …

… and booze.

As the cocktails went down the boys got boisterous.

"The name is Bond …"

Those mischievous young scamps decorated their boss's jacket.

Tastefully.

And then the serious drinking started.

And so the more elderly and sedate (and sober) of us left early …

… before the karaoke, the dancing contests and the forfeits got started.

Sheesh … Merry Christmas everybody!

Aww, You Guys!

So there I was, minding my own business, having avoided any kind of celebration of my stupid fiftieth birthday all week when I popped in to pick up Joy for a spot of lunch today.

When we pulled up outside Jong's house I thought "Oh, cool! Jong and the kids are coming, too. That'll be fun."

But no sooner had we got inside the door …

The strains of Happy Birthday To You rang out and I turned to find Jong, Joy, Martha, Josiah and Mave armed with cute little sweet rice cakes with individual candles (not fifty, that would have brought the Fire Brigade).

I may be an old curmudgeon but how sweet is that?

Jong is amazing! He had laid on some glorious food for us: Here (before he got started on the banana fritters) are adobo squid, sweet and sour fish, sweet and sour vegetarian and "Quorn-chicken" and mango, with delicious jasmine rice.

Now that is what I call a fabulous lunch!

Thom tried his hardest to beat the wide-angle lens but it just got him.
In the background are Richard and his girlfriend (who is lovely but whose name has completely flown from my head).
Richard (aka Richard Penguin) presents an acoustic music show on Joy's radio station, but many decades ago we hung out and played in bands together and generally whooped it up in a thoroughly reprehensible manner for many a long year.
We'd lost touch for ages but then when I met Joy and checked out her radio station website there he was and it has been wonderful catching up.
We have musical plans again. Watch this space.

At two o'clock, when Joy is usually presenting her show live (she had pre-recorded this week's especially), we tuned in only to find her telling the whole city about my fiftieth birthday!
Sheesh!

How cute are these guys? I've not got a paternal bone in my body but I love these three so much.

Mave was having an attack of the shies when the camera came out but she's the complete opposite the moment it goes away again.

They made me cards on Jong's computer. Yay!

So … To Joy and Thom and Jong (and Josiah, Martha and Mave).
You guys are the best.
You know I only pretend to be a sweary old curmudgeon. This afternoon meant a lot to me.
Thank you and huge hugs all round.

A Day To Remember

So …
Remember, remember, the fifth of November.
Not for the usual reasons: happily burning Catholics alive and celebrating an attempt by religious extremists to blow up Parliament by … er … burning people in effigy and blowing shit up … (non Brits won't have the foggiest idea what I'm on about but that's never stopped me before).
Well okay, we DO celebrate that but this year there were a couple of other things worth partying for.

First up, in a land far, far away across the ocean seas, sixty-two million wonderful and intelligent people did battle with fifty-six million gun-totin' religious fundamentalists and their chums and achieved something rather splendid.

A great day for humanity and a huge step forward for civil rights.

Excellent.
Well done, you lovely Colonials.

Meanwhile, back in the mother country one of our Blogville neighbours celebrated becoming a British citizen, adding to our impoverished country her marvellous skills, her degree and doctorate and her successful career doing amazing things for our local community.
Not to mention her wonderful, warm and generous personality, her charm, wit and intelligence … yup: she's great fun and a smartypants to boot.

I give you our latest British citizen: Her Majesty, the lovely Dr. Joy Barredo!
Yaaaaaaay!!!!!!!!!

This is Norfolk County Hall's Council Chamber.
On Wednesday evening, the fifth of November, after lots of introductions and refreshments we were seated around the chamber with the new citizens in the centre and presented with wonderfully tempting little consoles with microphones and voting buttons.
Regrettably, they were switched off.

The citizenship ceremony kicked off with some Handel and then the registration officer introduced the Chair of Norfolk County Council who gave the new citizens a welcome speech extolling the beauties and opportunities of Norfolk, all of which they already knew having been living and working here for many years but it was nice to be reminded that we live in one of the world's most beautiful places.

That's the NCC Chair on the left, wearing the bling.
Lovely chap.
Before the ceremony, both him and the guy on the right had been round and chatted to us all in a very friendly and welcoming manner.

The man on the right is Richard Gurney, the Deputy Lieutenant of Norfolk.
The Gurney family (other than their lapse in good taste by founding Barclay's Bank) have been excellent mayors, aldermen and dignitaries in Norwich and Norfolk since 1066 and three of the paintings in my living room, by John Sell Cotman are inscribed to this guy's great, great, great grandfather.
He is a tremendously charming and witty man and later he concluded the ceremony with a splendid address.

After Mister Bling's welcoming speech each of the new citizens (there were almost forty of them) swore an oath (or affirmed it if they didn't want to include the "God" part) of allegiance to the Parasites.
This is why I could never become a British citizen these days.
We had a good chuckle about what Joy called "swearing allegiance to the freaking Queen", but she managed to do it with a straight face.

Here's the oath:

"I swear by Almighty God that on becoming a British citizen, I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, her Heirs and Successors, according to law."

and the subsequent pledge of commitment:

"I will give my loyalty to the United Kingdom and respect its rights and freedoms. I will uphold its democratic values. I will observe its laws faithfully and fulfil my duties and obligations as a British citizen."

After this part, each new British citizen in turn was invited down to the front to be presented with their certificates of citizenship.
Joy (a proud Trekkie) liked this bit as the music they played was "Star Trek VIII, First Contact". Cheesy, but actually quite a fitting piece of music.
As each person received their presentation they were applauded by the whole chamber.
It was a surprisingly moving and dignified ceremony and I felt proud and honoured to be there.

As I pointed out to Rich yesterday, we have a different situation here with regard to immigrants than he has in the States: we have a dwindling pool of young British workers and what will very soon become an unsustainably large elderly population and we desperately need more immigrants to fill our jobs and pay the taxes that will fund our pensions.
It is our turn to say: "“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
Anybody in the UK resisting immigration should be made to realise that without it they will be in for a pretty impoverished old age, plus of course a stagnant culture, starved of the vibrancy of our wonderful cosmopolitan community.

Joy, of course embodies exactly the sort of new citizen we are most desperate for: highly skilled, hard working and eager both to embrace our culture (and the lovely Thom) and to introduce us to her own, something she has been very successful at.

Here is Joy's BBF from the office, the lovely Kim, forced under torture to wear a skirt just for this ceremony.

And here they are joined by Amalia, another wonderful friend from South Africa who is doing marvellous work both there and here in the UK.
She is formidably intelligent as well as being tremendous fun.

As we left County Hall, walking down the vast steps, we were greeted by fireworks as all of the Guy Fawkes Night bonfire parties around the city got into full swing.
It was a lovely touch and very apt to our celebratory mood.

After the ceremony, we all piled round to Joy and Thom's house for a celebration soirée.
Here is Joy carrying out her first task as a British citizen: making a nice cup of tea.
Hee hee. We kind of forced her into it but she does make a delicious chai tea.
Yum!

We sat around chatting and munching on Joy's yummy home-made focaccia while Jong set up his chef's kitchen.
Here are Thom's parents with Thom and Joy.

As usual, Jong provided a magnificent spread. Beautiful Filipino food; utterly delicious.
If you want to know what everything is, check out the individual shots on Joy's post.

While Jong was prepping the meal, the girls - Kim, Joy, Marina and Amalia showed me their lovely legs. Which is about as far as Old Dive ever gets. Hey ho.

Also this week, Joy interviewed Thom on her radio show.
At the point where she asked him what it was like: being in a relationship with a Filipino woman, I laughed so hard tears came to my eyes.
It's a great show.
Here's a link to the podcast so you can hear Joy's lovely voice and Thom's deep and sexy tones. He'd make a fortune from cinema ads. Hee hee.

November the fifth, 2008 was a splendid day and gave cause for celebration all over the world.
We will remember it for very personal and happy reasons, too.

Many congratulations, Joy!

NaDruBloDa Redux

So farewell then, Saddam Hussein; staunch ally of the US for so many years before having that bitch-slapping hissy fit with the monkey-faced Bush boys.
I may write lots more about this later, or I may not … I'm a bit "morning after" at the moment.

So …
Okay … testing … testing … one, two …
Here we go again with NaDruBloDa Redux - The Director's Cut:
The magnificent glory that is National Drunk Blogging Day.

Scene One: Breakfast:
Enter: One seriously hung over piece of last night's party trash.

Eugh … My mouth tastes like the bottom of a zookeeper's boots. My bloodstream is still mostly alcohol from the party last night so I've got myself a nice head start for my drunk blogging in that I'm probably still drunk.

I wake to the news that they hanged Saddam this morning. Must've been after I left the party because I don't remember that bit …

Hokay … Breakfast.
Hair of the dog seems a good idea for NaDruBloDa … Start the day with something light and refreshing. A nice glass of chardonnay.
That's the lovely fresh, grassy, complex French stuff; not the "buttery oaky" Australian nonsense - as subtle as a gasmask full of gorilla-fart and as sophisticated as only an Australian can be. Delicious it may be, but chardonnay it ain't.
So … Corkscrew ready? … squeak, creak, grunt, POP! … gurgle, splash … slurp … yum.
I'd better eat something, too. Poached eggs on chunky toast coming right up …

My menu for today:
One bottle of chardonnay
One bottle of Rioja
One bottle of malt whisky (Macallan)
One bottle of vodka
Four cans of Adnams Suffolk Stong Beer

Of course, I'm not going to drink the whole damned menu; it's just there if I need it.


Scene Two: Mid morning: Sitting in the studio with a slight hangover (ameliorated no doubt by my vinous breakfast) …

Just getting the photos together from last night's Mexican party at Chris and Jann's. My stupid batteries ran out on the camera so I'll mix in some of our last party to fill in the gaps.

It doesn't matter as it's the same party anyway … For the past twenty-five years it's always been the same party, except that these days we've been joined by "Partygoers: The Next Generation", the grown up sons and daughters of some of the original partygoers now added to the mix.
In the quarter of a century since I left college, I've been partying with the same bunch of people, month after month, year in, year out. A motley crew of around forty musicians and artists, some of whom come and go, but the essential core membership stays the same.
This is part of the reason I never meet nice girls at parties; there's never anyone new (unless we breed 'em ourselves).
We're a pretty insular lot. Outsiders tend to find it kind of hard to fit in with a crowd who have
(a) been together for so many decades and;
(b) all seen one another naked in dressing rooms waaay too many times.

So here, without further ado - other than some more wine (slurp … mmm … refreshing) - is the true start of my NaDruBloDa …
My National Drunk Blogging Evening-Before …

Chris and Jann's place, Trellis Studio is a bloody great thatched house way out in Deliverance country. It's got a little outshot on the end, which is where they actually live, but most of it is taken up with two floors of recording studio and a DVD production facility.
And it's a GREAT place for a party.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly discover two fridges full of beer … Mmmm …
The sombreros don't last for very long. They tend to get in the way. You can't get forty people in sombreros drinking beer in a small kitchen.
Jann and the girls have been cooking for two days solid. There's enough different kinds of chili to feed Santa Ana's army for a month. Mmmm …

Your hosts and MCs for the evening's musical entertainment: Old Neil and Old Dive, having a miserable time as always … Somehow - don't ask me how - the two of us have gained a reputation as the most "difficult" moody bastards in Norfolk. But we're really just fluffy happy bunnies. Honest …
As I have on a Spinal Tap teeshirt at a Mexican theme party, we name ourselves Spinal Tapas for the night.
Note to Utsav: That's my vintage Martin D18.

Our lovely flamenco dancer (John's daughter in law, from the cast of Partygoers - The Next Generation) does a whole bottle of tequila and spends the early hours of this morning in wailing and lamentation in the dowstairs toilet.

As my camera batteries die long before midnight, here are a few pics from our last party a few months back, in the "big room downstairs". Less Mexican, more Punk, that one …
Above, we see the inevitable picture of Dive at a party (whenever I'm not playing, you can find me in the kitchen).

Time for some bass … Things start to get a bit blurry … And yes, that's my original Stiff Records teeshirt from the seventies (for the uninitiated, it reads "If it ain't STIFF, it ain't worth a fuck") …

Nice, respectable people, musicians …
A piece of advice: Never move in next door to musicians. We're a miserable bunch of old sods who never have any fun (at least not when anyone's looking).
That's Chris in the middle, down by the barn, asleep in a lawn chair. Chris is a drummer and a one-man party. He can out-drink Australia.

Back to last night.
Keeley (one of Jann's daughters) drops her alto sax and starts to dance like your dad.
A signal I think for us to take leave of the party … mostly because I can't remember a whole lot after that.
I assume from this morning's news that sometime later we must have hanged Saddam, but it was all a bit blurry … I don't remember him being at the party …
So there you have it … The start to my NaDruBloDa; what old musicians get up to when there's no audience …

Now I'm going to have another glass of wine, check out a few friends' blogs, then think about making lunch … See you later.


Scene Three: Lunchtime. Downstairs:
What started out as a butternut squash risotto has kind of grown with the addition of a handful of locally picked wild mushrooms and a bag of chestnuts … and the rest of the chardonnay of course …

I'm actually feeling quite normal … ish (if a bit full of risotto). The beer and tequila sloshing around my bloodstream have been calmed by the bottle of chardonnay.
I dare say things will get a great deal hazier later on, but for now I'm going to chill out on the sofa with a DVD of Kiss Me Deadly (Ralph Meeker - Yaay!) and maybe a little nap …
And no I'm NOT going to watch Withnail and I. Doing the drinking game by myself, when my bloodstream is already turning my liver to paté, would mean a very short NaDruBloDa, with vomit and unconsciousness.
Nevertheless, I've opened the Macallan because you can't watch film noir without a tumbler of scotch in your hand …
Cheers!

Phil pops over later to pick up some stuff, affording me the very welcome opportunity to get some coffee inside me.
I freeze my movie and put the TV on for him while I'm in the kitchen.
Bloody hell, it's Zulu …
You certainly know it's Christmas with British telly. Zulu, The Great Escape, The Sound Of Music; every year the same fucking thing. As thrilling and exciting as a prolonged toothache.
Phil's got a Superman costume for tomorrow night's festivities. Only thing is, it's an all in one, which could be entertaining should he get caught short.
Then it's back to the movie, feeling a little bit swimmy as the caffeine and the alcohol square up to one another.


Scene Four: Er … Later.

The stairs … watch out for the stairs …
Careful now. Woozy swaying isn't the best thing to be doing at the top of the stairs.
Right. Go down 'em on my bum. Don't bump too hard in case I throw up …

Um … My original plan for today was to try to explain relativity to you (with all the maths) whilst steadily drinking all day.
But as I started the day already drunk, I kind of forgot …

… Then I fell asleep …

What I didn't feel like doing was drunkenly typing lots of embarrassing things about myself or my friends that I would regret tomorrow.
Shame, really, as that's what NaDruBloDa is all about.
I think that rather than drunk blogging, they should have suggested caffeine and sugar-rush blogging. Get people UP and overexcited so they post all kinds of silliness. Being drunk just makes me feel woozy and sleepy and a bit sick …

I'm now feeling just a teensy bit not so good. I'm alright sitting here, but I REALLY don't think it would be wise to try standing up right now. I don't want to waste all that lovely risotto from earlier, but I have the feeling it wants to come back and say hello.

Ooo … Woozy and nauseous …

So this is the feeling that the binge-drinking youth of today do their damnedest to experience at every available opportunity?
Believe me, there is nothing attractive or alluring about this at all.
I'm going to try to go to bed now. I know it's early, but I'm kinda hoping I can sleep this off.
I am NOT looking forward to the morning.


Scene Five: Later still, after some water and crackers and a torchlit walk around the garden in the fresh (if bloody windy and rainy) air.

Um …

Actually feeling a lot better now.
I know I said I wasn't going to post anything embarrassing, but I have a feeling that this whole episode kinda covers that territory. Ho hum …

Note to self: Probably not a wise move to participate in next year's NaDruBloDa … Perhaps if they have a National Slightly Tipsy And Giggly Blogging Day. How about it, Rootietoot?


So adios and goodnight from sunny Mexico.

If I'm not about in the morning, would someone please email me some Alka Seltzer?