Pass me the paracetamol…

This weeks biggest headache has been the Christmas Party.

Everyone knows that I am a HUGE fan of the Christmas Party. There are many reasons for this, not least of which is that everyone deserves a Thank you at the end of the year. I also love the fact that is free (i.e. not paid for by me) and there is plenty of drinking and dancing.

I love dancing, almost as much as I love drinking.

We work hard, all of us, from the top to the bottom so rounding off the year with a celebratory evening out is a must, as far as I am concerned.

Over the years we have tried all sorts of things, some went down well and others like the proverbial lead balloon.  However, the last few years in an effort to keep things easy and enjoyable we have mostly gone for a traditional, festive dinner and dance.  It seems to suit most people, as we are an eclectic bunch, of all sorts of ages.  Therefore, a meal with the option to stay and dance the night away if you so desire (or until you throw up in the bushes outside), usually seems to please most people.

When I say most, I mean most. You simply can not please all the people all the time.

This year has been no different to every other with regards to the actual planning of it. Every year we go down the ‘let’s do something different‘ route and every year we end up booking the festive dinner, and dance.  It is almost like a ritual.

We put word out that the Christmas party is being organised and ask people for suggestions, every year we get the same ones and every year we always go back to what works, the festive dinner and dance.  There is much of a to-do about dates and people suggesting that we should try a chocolate making workshop or dance lessons, everyone talks about the year we went curling, it was great says one, no it wasn’t it was rubbish says another.  Everyone pooh pooh’s everything and no one likes anyone else’s ideas.

*Sigh  It really does bring out the humbug in you.

So it was with enormous relief that by Friday we had made a decision.  Guess what?  We are going to book the festive dinner and dance.  Quelle surprise.  Why we have to go through this rigmarole every year is beyond me.

This year in an effort to try to spice things up a little bit, as requested, we have gone for a casino night.  It is still at one of the hotels in town and will still have the obligatory stuffed turkey and there will be dancing in to the small hours for anyone who is still standing after 11 pm, well there will be free wine, which after last years revolting vintage I will be avoiding like the plague.  Free wine is never nice wine.

I am not a wine drinker and last years Christmas party proved that nicely.   The Office Christmas party    A night I wasn’t sure I would ever recover from!

Invitations will be sent out this week for the 2018 Christmas party and I for one can’t wait.  I am outfit planning already! Oh, that reminds me I must book the grandparents in.

In all honesty Tom and Elsie will probably be ok at home, but as I am not sure I will be OK when I get home, it is probably best if they are not there.  Elsie’s scolding face on a hangover is not a pleasant sight.

This week I have also been contemplating my return to dating.  Uh! Just saying it out loud makes my shoulders slump.

Then, because I couldn’t quite face pof ‘s world of endless chit-chat, and idle thumbs, I thought I would give Tinder a whirl again.  In Tinder you only have to talk to people you match with, in theory at least and obviously if you can find any matches to start with, but I had a problem.

I have been banned from Tinder. 🤔

Apparently, so Google informs me, I have violated Tinder’s terms and conditions!

I wasn’t aware Tinder had any terms or conditions so this came as some surprise to me.  However, on trying to log back in to Tinder, I received an error code.  This particular error code is given when you have violated the terms and conditions in such a way that you can no longer be a member of such a refined institution as Tinder, you have been banished to the naughty step indefinitely and there is apparently no return from this.  I am quite sure there probably is but I am not sure I have the patience to look for it.

I can’t quite work out why I have been banned from Tinder, except to say that my behaviour was considered nefarious, according to the error code, alarmingly I only had my picture and age on my profile, I hadn’t even chosen an anthem, so I am not sure which one of those is considered to be nefarious.   Perhaps they thought I was lying about my age?  The terms and conditions regulators (if there are any), obviously thought I must be at least ten years younger than stated.  Is that classed as wicked or criminal activity?  I have done worse.

I can’t say I am overly upset at my lifetime ban, as even in the early days of my mission to free myself from singledom,  Tinder proved worse than useless.  I don’t get the way it works. In fact I would go so far as to boldly say, it doesn’t work, full stop.  It doesn’t work because you hardly ever get matches and even on the rare occasions that you do, nothing transpires from the matches.  The idea is that you can only message when matched, yes? but if no one messages when you do match, then what happens next? Fuck all!  That’s what.  Pointless!

Anyway, until I change my mobile number or find another way in that doesn’t include Facebook I don’t really have to worry about that do I.

The funny thing with Tinder is that I have heard lots of success stories.  I also read a few dating blogs where it seems to work well for most people, especially if you travel around a lot.  For the most part it seems it is a very casual thing, but I have read tales of people who meet and date for a few weeks/months, when travelling and stories of some who are now practically married.  These people are considerably younger than me though and so maybe that is the key.

So while I remain banned from Tinder, I am going to have to find another site to sell myself on.  Looks like I will be back in the murky, algae covered waters of pof sooner than I thought.

Where did I leave my waders?

 

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