After a busy weekend with my cousin, chum, daughter and nephew, it would have been sensible to spend a quiet Sunday night in, getting ready for the week ahead.
Sensible, schmensible! Sensible is for librarians, surgeons, and people who work in banks, and I am none of them. So when my chum from the village asked if I fancied meeting up for drinks on Sunday night, I readily agreed.
We met at our local village pub, The White Horse Inn, at 7.30pm and soon the wine and conversation was flowing. And we were having a right laugh. Then the pub closed at 10.30pm so Clare came back to my house (probably a bad idea with hindsight). Oh yeh, you can see where this is going.......
The upshot is that we eventually said our goodbyes at 1.15am (yep on a Sunday night), and the next morning I felt like a dead badger. A dead badger that had been squashed by a car and then suffered an artic driving over its head.
The only positive was that I didn't smell like a dead badger which is good because it is a very bad smell. I used to work with someone who actually did smell like a dead badger, and my nickname for him was 'dead badger' (unsurprisingly). It caught on well with my workmates though, so there must have been something in it. They would say things like "I need Dead Badger to knock up a new drawing for this fixture." That's how fluent his nickname became.
So now I am tired, tired, tired, and it is my own fault, so I am going to have an early night (i.e. before midnight).
P.S. did you have any comedy nicknames for your workmates?
Annie (Lady M) x
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