24 hour party people

So, I got home last night and there was Drop Dead Fred, having a lovely chat with the missus on the patio. Obviously I'm relieved that a) I'm not sleeping thirty feet away from a murder scene and that b) my karma will remain unsullied by the guilt of inadvertently cursing and then killing them, but I must admit to being a tiny bit disappointed. Still, there's always the weekend to look forward to.

Me and the Other Half will be getting all poshed up tomorrow night for the company Summer Ball - an annual frenzy of alcohol, embarassing dancing and an interminable raffle. The booze is free and it's a fertile breeding ground for Monday morning fear, as people rehash the night's events and fill in the gaps that memory had mercifully blanked out. The morning will be punctuated by horrified gasps and pained cries of "I didn't??!!".....marvellous. The trick is to drink just enough to have a good time, but not so much that you end up telling that fit bloke from the IT department that you've fancied him for two years and is there any chance of a shag, please. Oh, hang on.......

I'll update on Sunday. Honest.