Brassey and Trin have had a week of Christmas fayre. Monday night was this meal thing at some Moroccan/ Turkish place.... Yeah right it was Turkish but I was told Moroccan by some idiot colleague. The food was brill and the evening wore on. The tables cleared and then the evenings entertainment commenced. How exciting.... A disco. Two young guys in scruffy tops brought from Primark... Not even hoodies. We took bets on the first track but neither of us could have been prepared for the horror that awaited. Fucking LeAnn Rimes and "Can't fight the Moonlight" Imagine that to start a party off? So we left. Smart move.
Tuesday was a kind of mud fest come train thing in a wood. Brassey was in his element. I was more concerned about my highly expensive cool boots and the sinking brown stuff.
The meal was more basic but nice but the horror of the Pan Pipes CD playing Christmas Crap was enough to send me right into the psychiatrists office.
Why does fucking Christmas music have to be so insipid? Look at Band Aid
"Well tonight Thank God it's them instead of you"
What a bunch of morbid miserable crap. Isn't Christmas meant to be happy and cool?
I rushed back to my decks and played some Plan B to rebalance my scorched psyche.
I'm planning a very merry Christmas with my new fiance Brassey... Did I tell you we were engaged?
And no, he is NOT having an Octopus for Christmas.
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