L’s boss gives her a whooping great voucher for Christmas. Oh yes. For Waterstones. Oh no. The book pile never endeth. Does he know how much trouble that will get her in to? We already have random books arriving through the post that L claims to have no knowledge of.
Tonight is our company's night out at the Roundhouse in Derby for the fifth time in six years. Yawn. Beforehand four of us go down the pub with £30 from petty cash. That won't go far.
The Roundhouse event isn’t great in my opinion but then it’s never really been my thing. The meal has been exactly the same every year and that’s chicken not turkey, in fact there’s nothing festive about it all. Not even Christmas Pud for dessert. Everything else seems to get cheaper every year except presumably the ticket price. It’s also so loud ion there that you can’t talk to anybody which makes the post-works drinks the best party of the night because you can at least socialise properly.
L picks me up just after eleven by which time I have finished digging the escape tunnel. Over half the guests seem to have already gone by then anyway.
(Friday 16th December)