I went for a couple of beers after work. As I arrived I found that the Christmas conversation had already started. Our secretary seems to be sexually harassed  in my opinion and crude comments were made about her being a woman. To be fair she played along, not that she really had a choice. I certainly didn't join in but instead took the part of sober driver being a stick in the mood. Maybe if I'd have called her a big titted whore, then I would've been commended. So yes I felt a little out of the loop but I've never fit into that scenario since the back of the school bus. And the 'jokes' were exactly the same. Let me say I do enjoy going for our Christmas drinks every year as brief as they are with me living so far away. I get on well enough with my work mates so I guess I'm quite lucky for that. After all the words which were thrown about, eg. Flange, wound and Cumming,  I was surprised at the disallowance of the word Cunt as I described my dad to a fellow friend. A strange set of standards. 

They seemed drunk very quickly. Strangely quickly actually. I bid them farewell to go pick my son up from nursery. My wife and son and I went for a drink at our local. We drank into the night but my feeling drunk never arrived. Bitter, it seems doesn't  go far enough.

Christmas eve and we finalised our shopping. Now it's cleaning, films and then the best part of Xmas eve. Leaving things for Santa. I had the novel idea of convincing my son to leave Santa twenty quid and some new blurays. We'll see.