Reg readers will recall La’s excitement at the prospect of last week’s Wordporium Christmas drinks.
Hell, I even wheeled out a killer shoe for that extra bit of lift and separate.
This was one yuletide celebration right up La alley: bijoux-sized group of quality colleagues, four to six pm running time, delicioso snack-sized gourmet nibbles, bespoke cocktails and a Harbour City viewscape to die for.
Hell, rumour even had it there’d be a man hand-carving individual slices of smoked trout and popping them onto bauble-shaped, lady-sized rye breadlets. With a squiffle of horseradish cream.
But at two pm that day, La got The Call.
Nanny Triv: “Hi. I just vomited.”
La Triv: “Really?”
Nanny Triv: “Yep, really.”
La Triv: “So you’re sick?”
Nanny Triv: “Yep, really sick.”
La Triv: “Think you can hold it down for four more hours?”
So off La skulked, to collect los loin fruits and take the nanny’s place at taekwondo and cello lessons.
Some might say to take La rightful mother place, but let’s not go there.
Cementing la status as a Big Person, I informed the unwitting Junior Cost Centres I was missing los Christmas drinks at Wordporium Towers because of them. Churlish? Moi!?
Then I was reminded why I decided to procreate with a very smart man: it helps ensure you have smart children. “Why don’t you take us with you?” chimed the female JCC brightly.
Why not indeed? Cello and taekwondo be damned!
So after a quick dash home for lippy and iPads, off we toddled, back into the festively decorated bowels of the Harbour City.
After nibbling on child-sized chorizo sliders, trout nibbles, lamb cutlets and char-grilled crustacean canapés, the Female JCC took in la view.
And La enjoyed los cocktails. Los bunions, however, had reservations about the killer heels.