We booked our Christmas party! Pure craziness! I had nothing to do with it, I prefer pints and chips to roulade and jus and confit, thank you very much. Or 'culinary sparks', to give them their correct term. The words 'demure simplicity' and 'genuine and understated hospitality' should never be bandied about when recommending a venue for a party. If I had my way, all parties in the universe would involve karaoke, fancy dress, Rock the Boat, drinking games and bowls of crisps. And pinatas. And duvets to sit on. I don't know why, but duvets say fun to me. I am an acquired taste.
UPDATE: Just thought you should know that this is the library Christmas party. And when I say 'you should know' I mean you, Marie Connolly. And don't fucking ring me, all drunk, and question why you have to go to some big house in Lismore for your Christmas party. You're not invited to every fucking party going, Connolly. And also, maybe lay off the midweek boozing sessions. You alcos disgust me.
