Thursday, 29 January 2009
It's quite a different experience being drunk in the middle of the day, especially when you are trying to be sensible 'cos you're actually still at work.
During a leaving lunch last week, not mine - yet, after two glasses of wine on an empty stomach (bad service, took ages for nosh to arrive!) I noticed the strangest things. I wrote it all in to my phone so I wouldn't forget, 'cos otherwise I knew I would, but that is probably another symptom of daytime weeblies, writing self notes in phone!
Anyway, in amongst the passwords and recipes for Cosmopolitan cocktails, here is the long version of what I wrote to myself....
Amazing and minute details jump out at you. In glowing technicolour. Such as the suddenly fascinating picture in various shades of glowing royal blue on the wall. The 10 foot square picture I didn't actually notice on the way in to the restaurant. It was really the most glorious picture I had ever seen. Full of spots. Of blue.
Details such as how similar the two people opposite me actually look. If you ignore the fact that they are male and female of wildly different ages and have different colour hair, eyes and skin. And different noses, chins and cheeks, they actually look awfully similar. They both have a head for a start.
It then became apparent at this point that I was going to miss the person who was leaving quite a lot. My dear friend. We have known each other for 5 years and I love the lady like a bosom buddy! This was quite a sobering thought, causing me, in my distress, to have another glass of wine.
I then realised that deep and philosphical ideas, that I really had to share with the whole table, were pouring in to my brain. It was like a waterfall of scintillation. I did share them, they were much too good to keep to myself, my dear friends should partake of the wisdom of the ages! They did, with varying degrees of stunned expressions. But three bottles of vino had been consumed by us all at this point, so we battled on. I wasn't however, in a competant enough frame of mind to write these down to myself in the phone and have consequently lost them! How awful! They were so good, I know. Origin of Man type of stuff. Why we are here. Why. Why? Damned if I can remember.
At this point I tottered off to the Ladies, undressing on the way, as is my wont when in my cups. Fortunately, no-one noticed! :o) I'm sure of that. Anyway, trousers off, trousers ON. Remembered to do them up while in the loo, nothing worse than falling over ones dacks on the way back to the table as they swish down to ground level, I know that! That was a long time ago though, but, lesson learned, lesson learned!
So, here we are at the sink, having also remembered to wash our hands. It was a trick tap. I know that for a fact. Because there is nothing you can do wrong with a tap. You turn them on and the water goes in a downward direction. Every time that is what happens. When you are sober. And when the sink is sensible and stays still, waiting for the water to hit it. Today, either the tap moved or the sink did. Whichever was the culprit, the end effect was the same. Wet Groin Syndrome. Soggy Knickers Disease. Rampant Stain On Crutch!!!! Sigh.
Back out to the table, tripping up on the way, at least not over half mast trousers, but still! What a stupid place to put a step and a fountain! Right outside the Ladies loo, like an obstacle course. I cleverly slalemed my way back to the table with no-one the wiser.
The conversation at the table was very fascinating at this point. Carrots. Vomit. Why? An age-old question with a definite answer! Our food was all but consumed at this point, which is just as well really. Apparently the reason there is always carrots (diced) in vomit is because of the action of stomach acid on protein. Hyrochloric acid + protein = small orange chunks! I didn't know that! Wow! Nurses are fascinating people with so much fascinating information in their noggins!
Moving swiftly, and without a break, on, to wedding cakes, to discover that the actual name for a profiterole tower is a Crockenbush! Except that is the original restaurant spelling, my friend Ms Google says that the actual spelling is Croquembouche. I want one of those :o) If only because of the wonderful spelling! Unfortunatley, there wasn't one on the menu, a serious oversight, if you ask me! I would have ordered a whole croquembouche by this point, so enthusiastic was I about the lovely word!
And there, Dear Reader, endeth the notes and therefore the lesson for the day. The lesson being? I hear you say. It's obvious surely? Read it again, you're sure to notice it this time!