Hoots

What. A. Weekend. Kicked off on Thursday night (as the best weekends are) with a work social at which we threw a baby shower for one of our consultants, complete with milk-based cocktails served in Tommy Tippee mugs. As with many of our work socials, it doesn't sound like it'd work but curiously, it did.

Friday was mental throughout, full of meetings in the morning and struggling over to Hampshire to the Hatter's house with boxes of wine and shoes, for 'twas his WEDDING on the Saturday morning and we needed to get ready and such, being as I was his very Best Man and very proud of it as well.

Those of you who have befriended me on Facebook have access to photos of the event, including one or two of your blogger in a KILT for the first time ever (and yes, I was wearing pants). A truly tremendous garment, I have to tell you - would happily wear one more often. Were I a true Scot, I would, but I'll have to settle for Sassenach Troosers as it is. Hey ho.

More Dublin, training, lost clothes

Re my last post, I've over it now, and am quietly getting on with the serious business of sucking all 2.whatever million tracks out of the service whilst I still can, as I believe a number of other 'subscribers' are. Hooray for small mercies, I say. Oh, and whilst the mochaccino from the machine on the first floor wasn't that bad, the espresso was lethal. Although there were some mornings when Bruno (bless 'im) got in before me and was thoughtful enough to place a MUG full of it on my desk, which I think had no fewer than four rocket-fuel espressos in it. 30 minutes later and elephant tranquilisers couldn't slow me down. My most productive mornings, I think.

Anyway, back to Dublin this week, fortunately only for a day trip (although these tend to be the most tiring of all, out on Wednesday at 0430 and back around 2000, straight to the pub for the old place's semi-official leaving do, which I'm really looking forward to. This week I'm mostly writing a business case which is turning out to be more detailed than it has any right to be, and hoping fervently that all my adding up's correct. I noticed a small error the other day where I'd forgotten to divide by 1,000. Aaaanyway....

Then, on Thursday and Friday I'm in some hotel out near Reading somewhere (ooh the glamour; Kathryn gets to go to all sorts of shiny places; I'm somewhere off the M4...) on a Consultancy Skills course. I've no idea what'll be involved, but with any luck I'll be all skilled up after that and won't have to pretend at being a Consultant as I've been doing with varying degrees of success for some months now. It's been a bit like a real-life 'Faking It'; I wonder if anyone's cottoned on yet....

... and then, on Friday night, the Kiwi and I are off to Prague with some other kiwis for the weekend, hooray. I'm told it's back to its former loveliness after the recent influx of stag dos (who've all gone to Tallinn now) so I'm rather looking forward to it.

And on a final note, I've just heard a production designer on the Vodaphone Live Music awards describe Motley Crue as 'heavy metal herberts', which has made my evening, pretty much. More when I get back from Prague, unless there's wireless at the hotel on Thursday night. Looks set to be an interesting week.

Oh, and one more thing - lost clothes. I thought that, in the interest of maintaining the underlying theme of this blog (The Adventures of the Kiwi) I thought I should mention the absolutely wonderful episode yesterday where she had to knock on the door of one of the flats in the building next door to retrieve her shorts and a towel which had blown off our balcony whilst drying. We're still one towel, a dressing gown and a pair of knickers short; the people who own the properties they blew onto are away, so the knickers will have to stare forlornly at us through our kitchen window til they get back. What must the neighbours think....