So there was the Gorse Fox, checked-in. Hair** brushed, shirt tucked in, ready to go. He made his way to the private club where he joined colleagues being checked-in by name.
The event was well run with an open bar all evening, and snacks being circulated throughout. There must have been about 100 guests.
A comedian had been hired to act as MC, and a band had been formed to perform on the night... and did a superb job.
GF was thanked by a couple of the auntie's execs. His design had stood the test of time and the systems exceed their availabilty targets and deliver with performance to spare, even when fully loaded. GF never doubted it, but it is nice to be vindicated.
As the evening wore on, the free bar began to take its toll. Upright colleagues and clients started to adopt leaning positions. As they weaved between the clusters of people GF observed acts of intense concentration, and every deviation from the route became exaggerated. Clients became incoherent. Colleagues became emotional.
There were plenty of speeches; only two officially, but guests started to wax lyrical when encouraged by the free flow of alcoholic lubricant.
All was done and dusted by about 1:30, and GF headed back to the hotel. There were invites to the hotel bar, but GF declined. That way lies headaches.
**Greying, and become sparse in places.
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