Driving In A Monster Truck Arena

What in the name of Andrew Strauss has happened the last couple of days... I have had some weekend and what's more, seeing as it's now Christmas Week, it's not about to end very soon!

Right. I honestly don't know where to begin! Saturday morning. I came in from work, at about 6.20am, rather cold and was a bit down I seem to remember. I was still a bit upset that I would be missing out on most of the Christmas party that was to commence that evening and I would be missing out on the whole spectacle of Christmas generally. I went to sleep in an unhappy mood, coughing incredibly loudly, making me sound like Chewbacca and woke up to a cocophony of absolute madness. It was about 5pm, and the phone was ringing. I picked it up and it was Mother Mitten.

"Tom, we're just driving back from town. It's taken us 45 minutes to get on to De Parys Avenue, (about 1/4 mile from town), so we won't be back for ages yet!")

Blimey, what the hell is going on? Why are they taking forever? I took a look out the window and was presented with my answer. Snow. Lots of snow. But I didn't realise the full extent of the snow until I stepped outside myself. I was expecting a fair smattering, but my whole foot sank underneath and part of my leg was submersed in white powdery snowness. Oh my god! This is insanity! I was planning to go to the first couple of hours of this party, before I had to go to work at 10, but suddenly... Idea.

I am not proud of this. So if you're reading Mother Mitten and/or Father Mitten, I am sorry. Sort of. You see, As it was snowing, and the party started at 7, I decided to leave a bit early to make it in time via a few friend's houses. I rang Mother Mitten and told her I was leaving now, and I was taking my work clothes with me to change there.

"I'll see you in the morning!"

I then, rang work. 5.40pm it was and I rang work. It was Bastard Chris again and I put on my best croaky voice and told him it was impossible I could come in. He strangely accepted it straight away and put the phone down. I had successfully called in sick. You can see where this is going...

Home thought I was at work. Work thought I was at home. Where was I? Party! My plan was to stay until 6am, which was allowed, and change into my work clothes and go home then, no one would be none the wiser! I was suddenly very excited...

It didn't really go to plan. I wasn't busted, but despite "calling in sick", I was still ill. I couldn't really drink that much in case I went too far and end up screwing the plan up. Also, I physically couldn't swallow after a while so drinking anything was impossible. We got there at about 7.30pm, head to foot in snow and socialised. It was fun. I did enjoy myself, even if it looked like I wasn't towards the end and the antics on show were a joy to behold. Sometimes it's fun to just stay sober and watch as your friends slowly sink into their drinking trousers. Even if I was coaxed into kissing Rob because someone managed to see off a whole cup of vodka at once. He enjoyed it really! Some people, no names, (*cough* Beddoe *cough cough* Kettle), made a fool of themselves in different ways and it was very funny. They were genuine coughs by the way..

The party turned into a bit of a strange atmosphere as a few uninvited randomers turned up, but they were soon turfed out and it turned a bit hollow. People had drunk too much too soon and couldn't last much later than 1.30am. It was time to go. It didn't really matter I got home at 2am, (after hastily changing into work clothes in the back of the Mittenmobile... that was chilly!), I just told Mother Mitten I came home sick, and she accepted it. I didn't get busted and all was well. (Well, didn't get busted, until now!)

I stayed in bed most of yesterday. Genuinely very ill and I slept solidly from 2am to 5pm. I called in sick, genuinely, and Chris accepted it. However, an hour later, I had a change of heart and rang and said I'll muddle through. Suddenly, after handing in my notice and calling in sick all weekend, I seem to be in his good books now! Me, Roger, Pibby and Kettle went out for a much-needed Sunday night curry before I snow-ploughed my way to work. Hence the title, the roads by this point resemble black sludge and the forecourt at work looked like an arena where Monster Trucks do their thing. I spent most of it outside in the freezing cold, (-12 you know), shovelling away snow and gritting the forecourt.

I came back with an ice cube as a nose.

And now, I am tucked up in my warm bed with a packet of Soothers. It's been one hell of a weekend and although I have got through it by treacherous lying and not even mentioning the cricket once...

I have enjoyed the craziness of it all!

Cya x