Hypatia Avenue

"My pig had a tattoo saying 'Danish' along its side. and it was standing in a frying pan."

Yep, more nonsense from Day 2 of our staff bonding/training bollocks. After brainstorming with the whole team on what our organisation would be like if it was 1) a film, 2) an animal, 3) a cocktail or 4) a journey. The chainsmoking junior members of the team secretly agreed while puffing away outside that the organisation would be 1) a tourist information video for Skegness made by blind black lesbian dyslexics 2) a battery farm chicken 3) a pint of meths and supermarket cola with a torn pink paper umbrella and a soggy glace cherry and 4) a community day out to Margate in a leaky minibus with no suspension and a tourguide who only speaks Gujurati. We also had to do a personality test where we all drew a pig on our notepads then learnt what kind of person we are according to the kind of pig we drew. Today, there were some informal reviews in IM of this particular exercise:

H says: I showed everyone my picture of a pig at the party on Saturday night.
H says: they said I was a freak without even knowing it was for a personality test
Colleague 2 says: Hee hee - my pig had vitutally no tail - so apparrently im completely sad and sexless (how did they know) - personally I found the pig analysis the most valuable part of the whole experience - well worth 10k
H says: my pig had a tattoo saying "Danish" along its side. and it was standing in a frying pan.
Colleague 2 says: covered in ketchup
H says: i notice they had no category for that in their fricking test

After that fruitful day at the office, I dragged myself home and got ready for August D's party. I felt so tired and drained I had to put on my Sophie Ellis Bextor album really loud and dance around my room to it in my silliest underwear. It was…rejuvenating and I managed to get out to the party with a sparkle in my eye.

The party was fabulous – Happy Birthday August D! – so good, in fact, I was obliged to turn up late at my parents' place the next day, giving me only an hour to say goodbye to my LittleBigSister.

We were all trying not to cry when she got in the car to go to her imminent married life in France – but we all failed at different times and I blubbed into my takeaway curry back at my place later on in the evening in a rather unexpected outburst of delayed emotion. God bless you sis, good luck and all our love for everything.

Oh dear. I'm all weepy again. Must put on my Pink Panther pants and crank up the volume on my stereo that is still blasting out ol' rhombus head Sophie Ellis Bextor before I collapse into a heap of soggy tissues and melancholic snot.