Freedom From The Mundane

Too Old For That Kind Of Thing

Image: Shayan

Wednesday saw the first night out in my “new team” at the day job. When I say “new team” I mean it includes all the new staff we’ve hired lately, which accounts for a 100% rise in our head count. We used to be a team of one manager and two techies, now we have six on total. So Wednesday was our first night out in our new format and boy was it a good one.

We left work as close to five pm as we could and gathered in The Orchard pub on Inverleith Row. After a couple of pints we ordered from their wonderful menu, four of us plumping for their homemade steak pie in merlot with mini rooster chips. Delicious, and even more so with a pint of Guinness.

The night wore on and we decided to stay where we were. I ended up staying until the death and staggering home a little worse for wear, but it was a great night out; a good laugh, good food and it’s great to be involved in such a motivated and friendly team.

Yesterday, though, I had to be in work early and so my decision to stay in the pub until closing came back to haunt me. I was ill. Ill all day as it turned out and I never really improved. The sort of ill that requires frequent visits to the bog, wishing you could eat and wishing the spinning would stop. I could almost hear my father laughing and whispering in my ear: “He who hoots with the owls shan’t soar with the eagles.” My shift dragged like no other. It was hell. It was purgatory. I was back in bed by 8pm and out for the count having achieved nothing.

Today I’m much chirpier. I’m able to type and sit straight without holding my head, and I’m able to get to and from work without barfing at the side of the road. All in all, a massive improvement although I will certainly be recommending a Friday night for our next team night out!

To finish up, here’s something from the good old days…