2002-12-16 - 12:08 a.m.

Well, that was a rip-roaring few days � the kind that has you feeling that if medical science wanted to swing by at any point and reconstruct your liver, then that would be just swell. Blagged my way into a works party on Thursday with colleagues that I didn�t really know, the free bar breaking the ice in the same way the hull of the Titanic did, meaning it was hangover-tinged culinary experiments on Friday. I didn�t really have the stomach to be handling giblets, but I struggled through and managed to fill my housemates with satisfactory amounts of bird. Duckling is nice, though it helps not to envisage it fluffy, yellow and quacking. Later, lots of my favourite people came round for drinks, which aided the heroic effort needed to maintain the blood levels in my alcohol stream. Saturday and Sunday required slipping down a gear, though I still managed to quaff down a fair amount of mulled wine, which greatly aided my charades playing skills (I know, I know), especially when I was cruelly made to mime �Sussudio� by Phil Collins. Tonight was a v civilised dinner with, among others, littlefunny and pixgrrl. And on the fifth day, Pablo rested.