Post Ninety-Five: We Like To Party.

(Sage advice, picture philosopher.)

Imagine over 150 funeral directors, cemetery staff and crematorium operators at a party together. What do you envision?

I had the pleasure of this experience on Saturday night, and contrary to popular cultural belief it appears that those in the 'death care' industry really know how to let their hair down. Behind the gents' perfectly double-windsored ties and the ladies' meticulously manicured fingernails lies a collection of kindred souls that crave a good rum and coke and a samba session.

I haven't blogged enough this week, mostly because I'm in major recovery mode. For the first time in a while I didn't slip into my bed until 4:30AM the morning after the party. I thoroughly indulged. So much so, that I remember texting my manager who was out at another club that I couldn't meet him because I could no longer see....

Sometimes, you just have to kick your heels up. Tis' the season, right?

Peace. xxxx

P.S. Herein lies a formal apology to those that I may have slurred to, dribbled on, man-handled under the mistletoe, unabashedly body slammed.... Feel free to take me out again in twelve months and assault me with such offences.