Festive Ferrets

It’s on days like today that I curse my type A, over planning, obsessive nature that won’t let me break my ritual of blogging of a Sunday. I’m shattered.

This weekend has been the Xmas do of my department and it isn’t something that is done halfheartedly. For a start it was down south, a two hundred mile drive down south, so Emily and I were up early yesterday to begin the journey.

The venue was Wasing Park, which I think is near Newbury and/or Reading. It’s a nice place, mostly used for weddings, but for two days my company took it over for a day of fun activities and an evening of too much alcohol. So yesterday I spent my day racing ferrets, working with gun dogs, driving strange vehicles and navigating several team games, most of which involved a blind fold. Don’t worry it wasn’t fifty shades of anything.

 

It will not surprise you to know that I excelled in all events and it was only some very suspect marking which somehow meant I didn’t win anything! Despite a gruesome weather forecast beforehand the rain held off until the late afternoon by which time everyone had definitely had enough and wanted to go and get warm (in the bar!).

The evening consisted of more traditional and expected xmas do activities, such as eating turkey and drinking. Us oldies sat at the back sipping our drinks and chatting whilst Emily and the youngsters were dancing to something they claimed to be music. No, I do not want to work, work, work, work, work.

I was in bed and merry by about 1am. Emily was a little worse for wear and may have seen her turkey for a second time in one evening during the night. With no harm done other than a headache and a need for the full English we woke up to, the journey home took four hours but felt like forty.

My plan now is to do as little as possible, watch the footy and hope that Louise is making the tea. I am definitely getting too old for this sort of thing.

Anyway, that’s all you’re getting today, but I will leave you with a picture of my helmet.

helmet

Till the next time…..

Large Weapons and Long Journeys.

So my three week social whirl has come to an end with my return this afternoon from my Christmas Do/Weekend with work. It started on Friday as my team and I traveled down to Bristol to meet with one of our main suppliers for a meeting (it was really just lunch) in a fab place called Grillstock.

We indulged in some very fine bar-b-q style fare, which for me consisted of Pulled Pork with coleslaw, corn bread and fries. We continued our very productive business discussions in the local Patisserie Valerie for stupidly sickly cakes and a decent coffee. I live life at the cutting edge of business as you can see.

With business concluded we journeyed on out of Bristol and further south and west towards Minehead and our home for the weekend, Croydon Hall.

We had hired the whole place out for the weekend for the 45(ish) of us that were attending. It isn’t the most luxurious place in the world but it did the job of accommodating and catering for us and our needs.

After a few drinks on Friday night, Saturday saw us take part in a clay pigeon shooting and archery contest. Sure, it was one of those team building things, but it was all good fun, and I astounded myself by actually hitting the odd clay and getting one or two arrows into the target and not a colleague’s head.

archery

As you can see we stood well behind anyone handling a gun or other weaponry for obvious reasons!

After hours of fresh air and friendly rivalry (I say that as I didn’t win), we retired cold and hungry to our house and got ready for the evening ahead. We had a surprisingly good Christmas meal, which is noteworthy¬†as typically a mass catered festive meal has all the culinary charm of Anthony Worral Thompson’s Y Fronts. More drinks were had and the younger folk did some dancing to that modern music the kid’s enjoy so much. I, and some of the other more senior members of the party spent most of the evening in a quieter area of the place drinking at a sedate pace and chatting. Tartan slippers were optional.

After a second rubbish night’s sleep, on a bed that was thinner than some sandwiches I have eaten, we had another full English, packed, tidied and hit the road by ten.

The lap (and knees) of luxury??

All in all it was a great weekend, and with it all paid for by the company I have to say I am very grateful that they take the trouble and expense to look after us so well. I would say that if you were wondering just how many miles it is from my house to Minehead, the answer is too many. That was the only issue with the whole thing, and some four and a half hours later, I arrived home never wanting to see the inside of a car again.

This young chap who works for me had a more extreme experience than many of us older folk, which at nineteen I suppose he should. Having had it very large on Friday evening, just a few hours later he was handling live firearms in a field. If that doesn’t say Christmas I don’t know what does. He took it a little easier on Saturday, however, having ripped him out of bed at 9.45 on Sunday morning, to then have him in the car five minutes later he spent most of the journey home like this.

He drank too much and stayed up too late, and at his age, he bloody should!

I shall now retire from social engagements for the foreseeable future as frankly I am knackered.

Till the next time…..