Christmas party

Yesterday I received my first Christmas party invite. Or rather, christmas lunch that will go on for a bit. I have had chrissy parties before of course, but not in England. And they are (in)famous in England. From my understanding, everone gets fuelled with enough booze to start their own Wetherspoons. If held in or near the office, you should have your bum photocopied. At least one person pukes in a plant, en someone will tell the boss what the team really thinks of him (my boss is safe from that I think, he's a great guy). A (dutch) friend of mine even managed to fall asleep in the loo on her first christmas party here and woke up in a locked and empty bar. Thank god for fire extinguishers and large windows (minor detail is she left her purse behind but she picked it up a few days later and noone ever suspected anything). Ours is on the 18th of December, so we can recover in the boss' time (Friday) as well as our own (Saturday and possibly Sunday). It will be a theme party. Belly dancing may be on the cards, which would be amazing. I have several colleagues whom I'd love to see making an arse of themselves belly dancing. Quite a few sleeps still, but exitement has kicked in already. Watch this space!

ps: anyone who hasn't heard of the british christmas parties: get a copy of the christmas special dvd of The Office - bloody brillant

My Sunday morning

Close to my home is this lovely place, overlooking the Thames and with the Gherkin in the background. On its left: dim sum resto. On its right: Italian resto's and the Four Seasons. Not bad!

Lacking inspiration....

....but here's a very useful word of warning re Panda Beer from my mate Dale. Well, useful if you ever go to Syria that is. Damn I wish I could write like him (then again, he is a journo and I am a finance nerd. Surely he must be wishing he as as good a finance nerd as I am. Or maybe not...).

"I’ve discovered the world’s worst beer. Panda Beer – which presumably gets its name from the fact that if you have more than one you wake up the next morning with two black eyes – has 11 percent alcohol content and leaves an aftertaste not unlike that created by the liquor distilled from used tyre rubber. I doubt that last tyre-rubber-liquor drink actually exists but if it did I would suggest that a ready market for it is available in Syria, although the life expectancy of its enthusiasts can’t be guaranteed. Holy hell, what a truly awful beer. I’ve consumed a fair number of the world’s endangered animals in beer form (Elephants, Tigers, Lions) but the Panda is the first to actually make me want to purchase a large calibre rifle and shoot its namesake. In fact, if I were a Panda, I’d get some legal representation and sue the manufacturers for undermining the good name of Pandas everywhere."

Speed dating

Never done it, never will. It sounds like an odd acitivity to me, but each to their own of course. London saw an interesting speed dating event last week I must admit. Apparently, Adelaide (South Australia) has a shortage of single females, and a surplus of jobs. So the local government decided to find some yummy South Australians (home to the mullet, let's hope they found some guys with proper haircuts), and 40 single pommie girls, and bring them together in a speed dating event in London. Haven't heard or read of any emigration of those yet, but will keep you updated of course. ;-)

Knackered

What a rollercoaster of activities and emotions.... One of my best friends visited me Friday to Sunday. Loads of talks as she is going through a rough time, nice dinners, Les Miserables and a long walk along the Thames. As soon as I'd dropped her off at Can Wharf, Frank was there to visit. Another walk along the Thames, a walk in Greenwich park and dinner. Twenty past nine and we were both in bed, too tired for words. Monday morning I left early to go to the Dam and I only just got back. Lovely being back in the home office. I got the best welcome possible, everyone was so excited to see me! And likewise of course. Dinner with some of the guys from the team, and an intensive meeting today.

And on the way home from the airport I had the best taxi ride ever. The old cabby was so super super friendly. He asked where I worked, and when I said London Bridge, he immediately knew the company. 'You guys are the only ones making money at the moment!' he said. Then we got into a whole discussion whether accountant or consultant was a more interesting role, both agreeing it was defo the latter. Almost home, he asked me if I was from Northern or Southern Ireland. He was not amused when I said I was Dutch, he really felt ashamed. I assured him I took it as a compliment, and really, the Irish are such lovely people you can barely insult someone with that. Finaly he gave in. We talked a bit more about accents and dialects and I was home. We then talked for another five minutes, until I really, really wanted to go inside. A lovely end to a lovely trip.

Lousy joke but funny for insiders

A/W

Autumn/winter. Buzzword in the clothing sections of the papers and magazines. And I laaaaaaaaaave A/W 08 daaaaahlins. Pussybows, checks and loads and loads of cardies. And in an attempt to do my bit for the UK economy, I went slightly nuts in French Connection today. A blue pussybow check shirt (two hits in one go), a very soft grey cardy with gorgeous buttons and a dark grey pussybow cotton dress. Just above the knee, but very suitable for work with leggings and heels (bearing in mind that my standards are still well below those of your average City girl). And the best thing: the dress is a size 38. Not that I've gone skinny all of a sudden, but the sizes at French Connection are very friendly for the mind. A nice thing when you're one a weightloss mission.