No velvet was stroked during the making of this post

It is oft said that it is awful to be stuck in a room full of drunk people while you are stone cold sober. (*Everybody* in the funhouse, says they want out. But we’re taking our time, ‘cause we’re in love with time.) I must disagree. I didn’t fancy partaking of the free bar during NewNewWork’s annual bash. I decided this several days beforehand, and stuck to it. It gives you a chance to watch. Well, not that I don’t do that anyhow, what with generating all sorts of social experiments and recording the results.

Of course, you get the same thing told to you over and over again, because the people couldn’t remember saying it to you previously, you get the cursing and the swaying and the maudlin and the skin-crawling stories. You get the hugs and the laughs and introduced to high-and-mighty overlords’ overlords as a paranoid anarchist. You get told you are just weird, but that is alright. You get people, you get Truth, you get Lies, you get Life.

Various cameras were produced (I neglected to bring Amahlia, nor her tripod, even though I knew I would be able to get to the top of thon structure on the left, because that was where the bar was), and some even asked if Cassandra would mind if I my picture was taken with them. Some have been spotted on FaceBook already. OK, a lie. One has been spotted. But not with me in it. It wasn’t a black tie affair, it was touted as smart dress. But most of us made the effort. I went for the black-tie subversion route, which means my standard (as was also pointed out) black interview shirt and white bow tie. Negativity rules, you see. Oh, and moleskin. The colonies will be glad to know I stayed dressed throughout.

Christmas parties. Oh, the stories I could tell. But not about this one. Much.

I like a lot of the people I work with, I like to like them. They are a great bunch. At least, the ones I like are. And who would have thought Caitlin could carry three adults safely home? I didn’t say comfortably (although I was), nor did I say quietly (I guess I am used to her), but she did carry us all home. With her backend sliding around, like joyriders in a Z4 or something. A slow, old and noisy Z4, but still. I love her.

A well-organised do, with fine people and fine (ish, everyone else seemed more impressed with the food than me) eating, and a fine night out. I did miss my pipe, when I was called upon to relate anecdotes (ignoring the rolling eyes, playing the double act (note I don’t saying playing the straight man anymore, long-time-readers)) but I managed. I also managed not to accelerate my talking soitallrunstogethersoitdoesandall, even if there was a Downpatrickite in the sphere at times.

So my last weekend before Christmas in Civilisation was quality, and the Colony now beckons.

When you’re footloose but you just feel limbless
Life gets in the way
So we get loaded or totally legless
But stay the same

Cannot unsee what I have seen with my own eyes