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Richard came in to the office last night with the single he’s got out for Christmas. He’s reviving Herr Flick and recorded Rock Around Ze Clock with Helga (Kim Hartman), so he’d brought in some pictures from back when he was in Allo Allo for the publicity.

We all sat around listening to both sides (if you can have such a thing on a CD) and munching on Mars bars before heading off to last night’s party down by Trafalgar Square. It was a miserably cold walk, and as I’d still not been home for a couple of days I didn’t have particularly warm clothes with me, so was glad when we arrived, to be greeted by posh Cosmopolitans with blackberries perched on the rim.

From our office to there, though, is so interesting you spend half your time pausing to look at things, which probably accounted for the cold feelings. As we cut through Chinatown someone had thrown open the doors of a van, from the back of which a big projector was showing some kind of film on a wall high up on a building. I don’t know whether it was political, but it had attracted a small crowd, which huddled together to keep warm, their heads thrown back so they could look up at the pictures.

It was a fantastic night, and again one of those parties where everyone seems to turn out (including, inevitably, the lunch bunch). I was intending to stay for only one or two, as I’d been close to falling asleep before we left the office, but I still ended up staying and chatting and drinking and eating until the last train home. I don’t think there was a single magazine I didn’t get to talk to someone from, and even Ursula was there; we’ve not seen each other in almost a year.

Many too many pink cocktails.

Tonight, then, out with Kathryn and Emilie Ems. We went to Cantaloupe over near Liverpool Street. It was full of people having their Christmas parties and getting very very drunk. The toilets were a long walk off down some precarious stairs. The doors were marked ‘Men’, ‘Ladies’, ‘Nothing to see here’ and ‘Nor here’, but I think the humour was lost on the blearly-eyed beer monsters who couldn’t even hit the urinals fro six inches away. One particularly pitiful example had put his drink down on top of the soap dispenser, but couldn’t coordinate his hands and his eyes enough to be able to pick it up again, and was yelling for his long-gone friend to come back and help him.

But the friend never arrived.

It was the last night out of a busy Christmas week, but little compared to next week. S_____ on Monday, H___ on Tuesday, Dennis on Wednesday and MacUser on Friday. I only need to find one more party to plug the gap on Thursday and it’s a full house.

This entry was posted on Friday, December 9th, 2005 at 11:53 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.