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13 Jan 2013

Post 378: I shouldn’t use the word ‘Fizzle’ so much



.ff...ft...ft.KAPOW
I must confess that I am somewhat lacking in inspiration because there’s not a lot to do at this time of year and post Christmas and new year in January are (to everyone in Britain) The WORST time of year. With this in mind, a friend of mine (George) had bravely organised a birthday gathering for her husband (Rob) and another mutual friend of ours(Tim). Now, I chat to a lot of this crowd on facebook, so they know me as a bit of (a lot of) a cynical, sarcastic bastard so I was pretty nervous. It was in a nice sort of bar/restaurant called 25 in crystal palace, the sort of place I associate with wall to wall bugaboo prams – where exhausted sleep deprived 30something mums married to mid 30s corporate automatons come to grab a cappuccino and complain about not sleeping because of ‘little jonny’, all the while wearing their yoga gear en route to ‘Pilates’ to sort out those stretch marks. I would gladly have been one of those Male corporate Automatons but this bloody stroke has intervened. These gatherings are a privilege to go to, to even be invited to, I find them lethally tiring but that has to be irrelevant. I get to meet new people and people I really don’t see very often because they understandly have better things to do. Living, working and surviving in London is hard – without having friends and family and gatherings like this to go to we’d all go mad. Especially those who have been supremely brave and had kids, I know that strictly speaking you’re not supposed to do this but I have always picked a favourite of my friends kids, and up till yesterday it was Oscar, my friends Nick and Sally’s little smiler.

I know it’s not a contest, but best in show is now Sophia,

Jo and Gary’s 3 year old, she is the image of her mother, which is bound to stand her in good stead later in life, here on the right, with birthday boy Tim, and great mate Simon on the left.

I have Ched

to thank for driving me to this, he knew most of the protagonists. Him and his wife Terri are brilliant for taking and putting up with me. Judging by a few of the facebook photo’s the drunkenness crescendoed. I can’t be the ‘last man standing’ for numerous reasons anymore – chief being ‘I can’t stand’ but I was glad to catch ‘peas in a pod’ Fi (right) and Mim (left)

before I had to bale. Well done to George (left)

for organising such a fabulous event. People need these things. I’m also quite smug that I managed to avoid booze despite this comedy comment a few days ago via facebook:
George: She's like a forcefield of bad influence
Isn’t January a laugh? Well, my first show of the year is seeing the Jimmy Carr-bot 2.0

in Guildford tonight. It’s a sellout proving to me that the middle-classes love a bit of swearing really. Finally big thanks to my mate Gav and his wife Cathy for the lovely thankyou card from his son Rocky (my godson). Not much can warm this heart of stone in January. I now see why my mum forced me to write thankyou letters. Thank goodness her, Dad and my brother (here he is)

have got back from skiing in one piece. I fret these days, I probably should’t, but I just do.

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