Nina's Slow Decline into Insanity The Community Christmas Party
Last night I met up with a friend from Liverpool who was in London for a day. Met her at her hotel in Russel Square, and then took her on a scenic tour of the environs in search of eating and drinking establishments. I had been intending to guide her to the Glass Bar, despite the fact that
a) I have no sense of direction
b) Neither of us had a map
c) I had absolutely no idea where Euston was in relation to Russel Sq. other than it probably wasn't too far.
However, since I do not lack either optimism or intuition and since she's a gullible soul willing to trust in my harebrained schemes (which frankly ought to mean she desreves everything she gets), off we trotted gamely and eventually found our way there via Warren St./British Museum/ Cape Horn. Nonetheless, we found it eventually, and I now have the entirety of Euston Road committed to memory and The Glass Bar was as beautiful as always and I got thoroughly drunk from one glass of wine.
When it came time to leave, we both tackled the problem of not knowing how we got to Euston or how to get back to Russel Sq. exactly, by setting off on foot (me weaving gently and admiring the blurry colours of everything) somewhere in the vague environs of Kings Cross, since I reasoned that it was all relatively close and we'd be bound to find her hotel eventually, which we indeed did do some 45 minutes later. Undoubtedly I made the journey pleasanter by singing out any rhyming nonsense that came into my head (Oh Russel Square, Russel Square/Are you there/Or do all the roads lead nowhere).
Which brings us up to today.
And I don't think words can accurately describe how tired I am.
A few days ago I was joking with my boss that I've redefined the measurement of time in Before Community xmas Party and After.
And the good news is that it's all over and cleaned up and now wet can all get on with living the rest of our lives and I may, just possibly, catch up on my sleep.
It actually went much better than I thought it would. For one thing we had fewer people and more staff members turn up than I had figured, and the entertainers did a good job (and tjej coped rather well with the out of tune piano). Yours truly avoided having to wear a huuuuuuuge blue t shirt by wearing a Santa Hat.
Community Parties are dodgy, since the moment when people get wind of the presence of Free Stuff, more often than not it turns into a feeding frenzy. At the other SureStart their Santa got mobbed (and I mean this literally, his clothes actually got ripped). We had the usual contingent of people who came just for the food, and the usual contingent of people who seemed to be unhappy with everything, and the ones who ate so much it made the rest of the people at their table stare in slack-jawed fascination. A number of children appeared terrified of Santa, and a several of the more enterprising ones attempted to pull down Santa's beard and his trousers.
It was an event done in grand traditional style, with presents being dealt out by a black Santa and then everyone tucking into a ye olde Christmas curry. I continue in my journey towards attaining ambidextruousness by gamely learning how to pick up smallfolk with one arm and carrying them back to their respective parents. I can definately feel triceps developing.
We've been working on this for the last couple of weeks, and I'd been running on adrenaline up until about 4pm, and then after the place was cleaned up and everyone gone because the coupling of Not Having Anything To Eat All Day and Running After Children for 4 hours is apparently not a very good idea, I collapsed. But only slightly and I tried to do it as unobtrusively as I could, curling up in the corner of the room because my lower back was in spasm and because my muscles were refusing to work.
However, after several cups of orange juice I recovered suficiently to drag myself to the bus and then home, where I proceeded to fall into the blissful sweetness of coma, and I think I could have cheerfully slept until next Tuesday or at the very least The Stratford Contingent's Luau Party.
I'm tired. It's all over, and it was very good actually, and for some reason what I really want to do most is to cry. I think it's nerves. I've been in a state of acute anxiety since this morning, and probably I just need some release.
I don't think there is a single muscle of my body which is not in some way voicing its protests. Of course I didn't notice any pain while I was attempting to pacify parents and rescue children, and I jingle jangle scarecrowed and rowed rowed the boat with the best of them. It was fun. I'm surprising myself by how much I'm enjoying being with children sometimes.
I've also discovered a new fun thing to do on ebay, which is surf for amusing bad feedback.
My favourite thus far is:
Boots wrong size. Numerous emails sent in attempt to resolve, but all ignored.
Reply by :elite_store: Liar!!!The size sent was correct-Your foot are too wide for this tipe of bbts
And the award for funniest post of the day goes to casaubon for his commentary on the Alabama judge who had the 10 commandments emrboidered on his robes
Argh. My back hurts so much it's unfunny. Or maybe it's already crossing the line into humour. If I didn't have to work tomorrow I'd be doped up on codeine right now.
And now I'm going to go do the next best thing, which is soak in a bathtub until the Sun turns into a Red Giant, and now that my life is going to calm down I'm going to look forward to catching up with all of YOU darling f-list.
a) I have no sense of direction
b) Neither of us had a map
c) I had absolutely no idea where Euston was in relation to Russel Sq. other than it probably wasn't too far.
However, since I do not lack either optimism or intuition and since she's a gullible soul willing to trust in my harebrained schemes (which frankly ought to mean she desreves everything she gets), off we trotted gamely and eventually found our way there via Warren St./British Museum/ Cape Horn. Nonetheless, we found it eventually, and I now have the entirety of Euston Road committed to memory and The Glass Bar was as beautiful as always and I got thoroughly drunk from one glass of wine.
When it came time to leave, we both tackled the problem of not knowing how we got to Euston or how to get back to Russel Sq. exactly, by setting off on foot (me weaving gently and admiring the blurry colours of everything) somewhere in the vague environs of Kings Cross, since I reasoned that it was all relatively close and we'd be bound to find her hotel eventually, which we indeed did do some 45 minutes later. Undoubtedly I made the journey pleasanter by singing out any rhyming nonsense that came into my head (Oh Russel Square, Russel Square/Are you there/Or do all the roads lead nowhere).
Which brings us up to today.
And I don't think words can accurately describe how tired I am.
A few days ago I was joking with my boss that I've redefined the measurement of time in Before Community xmas Party and After.
And the good news is that it's all over and cleaned up and now wet can all get on with living the rest of our lives and I may, just possibly, catch up on my sleep.
It actually went much better than I thought it would. For one thing we had fewer people and more staff members turn up than I had figured, and the entertainers did a good job (and tjej coped rather well with the out of tune piano). Yours truly avoided having to wear a huuuuuuuge blue t shirt by wearing a Santa Hat.
Community Parties are dodgy, since the moment when people get wind of the presence of Free Stuff, more often than not it turns into a feeding frenzy. At the other SureStart their Santa got mobbed (and I mean this literally, his clothes actually got ripped). We had the usual contingent of people who came just for the food, and the usual contingent of people who seemed to be unhappy with everything, and the ones who ate so much it made the rest of the people at their table stare in slack-jawed fascination. A number of children appeared terrified of Santa, and a several of the more enterprising ones attempted to pull down Santa's beard and his trousers.
It was an event done in grand traditional style, with presents being dealt out by a black Santa and then everyone tucking into a ye olde Christmas curry. I continue in my journey towards attaining ambidextruousness by gamely learning how to pick up smallfolk with one arm and carrying them back to their respective parents. I can definately feel triceps developing.
We've been working on this for the last couple of weeks, and I'd been running on adrenaline up until about 4pm, and then after the place was cleaned up and everyone gone because the coupling of Not Having Anything To Eat All Day and Running After Children for 4 hours is apparently not a very good idea, I collapsed. But only slightly and I tried to do it as unobtrusively as I could, curling up in the corner of the room because my lower back was in spasm and because my muscles were refusing to work.
However, after several cups of orange juice I recovered suficiently to drag myself to the bus and then home, where I proceeded to fall into the blissful sweetness of coma, and I think I could have cheerfully slept until next Tuesday or at the very least The Stratford Contingent's Luau Party.
I'm tired. It's all over, and it was very good actually, and for some reason what I really want to do most is to cry. I think it's nerves. I've been in a state of acute anxiety since this morning, and probably I just need some release.
I don't think there is a single muscle of my body which is not in some way voicing its protests. Of course I didn't notice any pain while I was attempting to pacify parents and rescue children, and I jingle jangle scarecrowed and rowed rowed the boat with the best of them. It was fun. I'm surprising myself by how much I'm enjoying being with children sometimes.
I've also discovered a new fun thing to do on ebay, which is surf for amusing bad feedback.
My favourite thus far is:
Boots wrong size. Numerous emails sent in attempt to resolve, but all ignored.
Reply by :elite_store: Liar!!!The size sent was correct-Your foot are too wide for this tipe of bbts
And the award for funniest post of the day goes to casaubon for his commentary on the Alabama judge who had the 10 commandments emrboidered on his robes
Argh. My back hurts so much it's unfunny. Or maybe it's already crossing the line into humour. If I didn't have to work tomorrow I'd be doped up on codeine right now.
And now I'm going to go do the next best thing, which is soak in a bathtub until the Sun turns into a Red Giant, and now that my life is going to calm down I'm going to look forward to catching up with all of YOU darling f-list.