Well the Gorse Fox has left them to it. It looked as if they were settling in for a long session, so GF bade adieu and sneaked off.
It had been a nice evening with small cells forming raiding parties at various pubs around the town. By seven, the raiding parties were drifting out of the pubs with and air of nonchalonce as they started to home in on Monsoon. We settled in, as if for a siege. With purpose we started to empty their barrels of Cobra and Carlsberg before moving to the tables and hitting the buffet, It was an excellent repast - with nobody having any excuse to go hungry or thirsty.
The Gorse Fox was set upon half way through dinner. A red bobble-hat was thrust upon him and he was asked if he would dress up as Santa for the Christmas Lunch next Tuesday. Deciding there was no way out, he acquiesced. One was asked if that meant he got to sit on the Gorse Fox's knee - but was crestfallen when the GF replied that only good boys (and bad girls) got that honour. The Gorse Fox is a little worried that he has been well and truly stitched-up (as opposed to quilted).
Back in his room he is conscious that Marks & Spencer are holding their Christmas do and disco beneath his window. So far it is not too loud... but he suspect sleep may be sporadic!
PS - Very few photos were taken (thank goodness)
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