Friday, December 21, 2007

Two peas in a pod

Two of the women at work get on like a house on fire. It’s not a surprise, female demography of the organisation appears to be split between 19 year old administrators and 40+ managers with just those two in between.

Physically, they are similar height and build and have a similar style. One is blonde, the other brunette. One drinks white wine, the other red. Today, whilst sorting through another tin of chocolates they found that their tastes complimented each other in this area too. 

“Cor”, said one, “Sharing a packet of Revels with you would be AMAZING!” 

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Dancing around the Christmas tree

From a primal perspective, dancing is all about sex. Dancing demonstrates vitality and health, and many of the moves – with the exception of The Pogo and Big Fish Little Fish Cardboard Box – are simply distilled sex moves of one kind or another.

With metronomic predictability, the Christmas Party happened last week and sure enough there was dancing. I don’t really dance to cheesy wedding/Xmas disco music; not because I don’t want to – I’m not one of those who think dancing is merely a right of passage into homosexuality – more because I simply can’t.

Quite literally, music has got to move me if I’m to dance. Cheesy discos don’t do that –they’re just too slow and predictable.

It didn’t stop others filling the dancefloor. The women are most eager; dragging each other up for ‘a bit of a boogie’. Once they’ve negotiated all the tables they simply stand in a circle and do the stepping side-to-side dance. A little later and more lubricated, this might be embellished with the odd ‘hands in the air sing along to chorus’ variation.

Men also do the stepping side-to-side dance – it’s all very self conscious – height doesn’t help – and nobody knows what to do with their hands. Maybe this is an accurate pre-cursor to a night in the sack.

The other breed are the men who do the undo their shirts and jump around like baboons. These are people also tend to have sick down their shirts. These must be the people who think that picking a woman up by the hair and throwing her on the bed for a good seeing to is in some way attractive.

If dancing is indeed some sort of primal mating ritual, it's a wonder how long the human race can sustain its abject state in the modern world.

(*office party video, not authors own... thankfully).

Saturday, December 01, 2007

She's in control

Looking back, I’m surprised I haven’t mentioned Ginger Woman; Emma’s superhero alter-ego. Over the years, she’s managed to be in the right place at the right time to break up street fights, direct traffic around burning cars and bring to justice a couple of local tyre thieves. Oh, and she became implicated by a tabloid newspaper in a terrorist attack… but that’s another story.

Like all good super heroes Ginger Woman’s world is a secretive one. She lives in the shadows waiting to be called upon. What she does in the shadows, who knows?

On Wednesday we watched Arrange me a marriage. The woman whose marriage was being arranged was Lynn. Lynn’s parents are friends with Emma’s, one of Lynn’s closest friends is in our ante-natal group and one of the blokes selected has a son Emma taught.

Emma doesn’t know Lynn and the three people connected to Emma don’t know each other. She’s clearly is in control of a lot more than I’d previously realised. I’m just innocently making my way through life whilst she’s the master puppeteer of Oxfordshire society. I feel like Nicholas Garrigan to her Idi Amin in Last King of Scotland.

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