The Missing Weeks. Part the First

Well I've been out of communication for weeks now.

I could claim that it's some sort of arty project to have this December be a reverse of the previous one and it's 25 blogs of Xmas.

But methinks that's all a tad too much to believe - even of The Tales.

Instead you shall just have to believe that I have been exceedingly busy with stuff. The following list should convince you of my extreme busyness quotient until such time as I have you all caught up on the myriads of interesting events that befell your correspondent in that intriguingly un-blogged time.


SPUN XMAS Meeting
We begin with the annual SPUN Xmas meeting which, true to tradition, I attended without the assistance of the esteemed Mr Prada who once again perplexingly had better things to do than attend a free feed.
I was suffering some trepidation going into this meeting as I feared I may be elected into some official capacity for the coming year. There was also the fear about returning to the ground upon which I had received my recent dose of Wine Poisoning.
I was lucky enough to escape this time with only a mild case - despite the best efforts of Dubrovnik Hater and The Puppies.


The Viking-Hatted Bucks Night
After a brief return home for rest I was off again that night for the next stop in my social itinerary. This was the much anticipated bucks night for The Viking Hat GM. The anticipation came from the fact that The Mad Magyar was responsible for the organisation and I was expecting to get a giant insight into the Eastern European buck's night traditions - I imagined something along the lines of the groom having to win several knife-fights or possibly wrestle a wild animal into submission whilst under the influence of several litres of petrol-grade alcohol.
Apparently though, the way they do it in the old country involves go-carting, rounds of drinks, walking aimlessly through the city not wanting to pay $10 cover charges, and eventually going home when the buck refuses to enter any further establishments.
Hmm, it's a small world after all.

In the end I made it home thanks to the grace of Exploding Ninja Pony who detoured to drop me on my doorstep despite his obvious gut-clenching fear that The Viking Hat GM was only a hair's breadth away from engaging in that wonderful Australian custom of the auto-interior technicolour yawn.


Up next: what happens when you gather 40 librarians in a room with food and drink?
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