4 December 2015, 2.30 pm
Now we are at the CIPA staff Christmas lunch. I am still wearing my CIPA lapel pin, but also a paper hat. We are not served our food until well past 3 pm. A couple of peanuts have proved inadequate to maintain my blood sugar levels and I am unable to drink because I am driving home from the station tonight, so despite the paper hat I am in Grumpy Old Cow mode. As a Grumpy Old Cow, I am not hugely impressed with my lunch. As a Grumpy Old Cow, I regard a rubbery onion tart as a failed onion tart, whether or not it benefits from a 5g blob of goat’s cheese and what I believe is termed a “drizzling”, but is actually just a random squirt, of balsamic acid. As a Grumpy Old Cow, I would rather my sea bass had been lightly steamed and not boiled in a dishwasher on the Vesuvius setting. As a Grumpy Old Cow, I do not think it too much to ask for my Christmas pudding to be served piping hot rather than just above body temperature, and I am uncomfortable with the after-taste it carries, of meat pie and pencil sharpenings. The others say: How do you know what pencil sharpenings taste like? I say Pencil sharpenings is what we had for us tea oop north and we was glad of it. I say Not everyone can afford to use truffle shavings to garnish their food. I can tell they are thinking that social mobility may not be such a good idea after all. Still, we manage to have a good time despite the food. Because the company is excellent. Because we all love each other very much, especially the ones who were pretending not to drink spirits. Because we are thrilled with the paper hats and rubbish jokes and plastic toys from our Christmas crackers. I may be in Grumpy Old Cow mode, but I can still have fun catapulting my green plastic frog into the VeePee’s drink. Next I am going to aim for Mr Davies’s Santa hat.
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