Home in time for Casualty.

You remember I went out with The Diet Coke twins on my birthday?

I had such a 'great' time I wrote a big many thousand words post on the subject, here.

Yeah, happy birthday.

Well I tried my darnedest to get out of meeting for an Xmas meal (this constituted of me moaning 'I don't want to go', The Awd Feller going 'Well don't go then' and me 'Oh but I have to'.) but I still went.

Both Diet Coke Twins were adamant Liverpool would 'be hell' on the weekend before Xmas (it wasn't) so we HAD to go somewhere 'out of the way'.

We ended up in a nigh on deserted eaterie with the heating on full blast, so much so my make up slithered down my face and my hair plastered itself to my scalp.

I was slightly late, and the already arrived Twins had two glasses of - yes, friends, you guessed it. It might be Xmas but the unmerry revellers eschewed the temptations of full fat Coke because that would be TOO BLOODY MUCH.

I ordered a LARGE glass of wine, I knew I'd need it.

The presents were again a bit rubbish, the food ok, the conversation shite.

The primary moaner spoke of:

Redundancy.
The things you have to do before you can sign on these days.
Her cat being a bastard.
How she has to go to the toilet more than us because of her diabetes.
How her shoes were stained because of the rain.
The problems she had finding 'this place'.
Her Xmas dinner consisting of a precooked chicken from Asda ('I got one from Iceland last year but it was shite'), bag of frozen Asda ready to cook roasties and Asda's gravy granules. Plus there's frozen veg but 'I fucking hate carrots'. (She's a BIG fan of Asda)
She hasn't been out since my birthday.
She didn't go on the works night out 'because it was in the night time'.
Her arm's sore because of her flu jab.
She believes in legalised euthanasia.
Margaret Thatcher is a bitch.

The other one:

Suggests for a stress free Christmas we all need to 'limit (going to) social events'.
How her works Xmas diner was rubbish. The parsnips weren't cooked properly.
She got up at the crack of dawn that day to go to Ormskirk to 'pick up the meat'.
Someone's already written a novel with a similar plot to the one she's writing. (I say writing a novel, she's done one chapter and started the second).
How town is 'hell'. (again, it REALLY wasn't)

Anyway, I was home in time for Casualty. Not that I watch it.

Happy holidays, people!