I walked down to the work Christamas Party at Cockle Bay Wharf. I was fashionably two hours late and got squeezed between my only real work colleague and the CEO, who kindly offered me his bread roll while I watched everyone’s plates being taken away. Later on, while I scoffed down a steak, those who had made some effort to comply with the “Pirates of the Caribbean Beach Party” (?!) theme, earnestly paraded on the dance floor for the ‘best costume’ prize. While the original idea was to eat as much and as fast as possible and leave soon after, this ‘scoff-and-off’ strategy was waylaid by the copious booze and genuine good cheer of everyone.
Out of respect for my comrades, I decided against posting photos from the roisterous dance floor, where even Yours Truly was seen to shake her tail feather to party hits ranging from the early nineties all the way to the latest dance remixes of early eighties chart toppers.
Me in my rather lame take on the costume party theme, I took the one word I could use (without recourse to costume hire) ‘beach’ and dressed as a kind of beachcomber (i.e. a vagrant with a nautically striped shirt). Here I’m trying on Brett’s Wayfarers, seeing I’ve lost my sunglasses… again.
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