Fun- you make me sick.

My boss, soon to be ex-boss, seems to have a crippling disease, an extreme aversion to any type of fun. She is the kind of person who would sit through a seminar all day and then leave at the prospect of mingling and drinking at the bar afterwards. And this isn't down to shyness as the women is a ball breaking uber bitch, basically.

She just can't stand to be in a situation where she might let her guard down, or have to make small talk, or actually laugh, smile and relax.

Today is my leaving 'do' at work. 'Do' as it's just at Abacus, the meatmarket bar in the city, full of smarmy city boys in suits with bags of money, but no souls, and with regular shipments of Essex girls who get dolled up after their shifts in New Look and come into the City to try and snare one of the aforementioned rich-but-lacking-in-soul men. Usually I leave them to it, they are welcome to each other, but today, we're venturing into their world for 'happy hour'.

Perhaps it was the word 'happy' that struck fear into my bosses heart, but she has suddenly been struck down with a terrible case of 'food poisening' which is funny considering

a) She's stick thin, because she doesn't eat after 6pm. That means no dinner, ever.
b) She's a vegan. Tell me, which variety of undercooked vegetable causes such a condition? An undercooked turnip perhaps.

So basically, her aversion to fun has meant she's faking an illness. She said she was 'thinking' of giving us her credit card so we could go out and buy champagne. 'Thinking' not doing. We won't see the credit card, or her.

Now, don't get me wrong. The evening would be terrible if she were to turn up. Why? Because she doesn't get on with anyone and my ex-boss, who was fired before Christmas is turning up. I can only hint at how bad this situation got, but lets just say, the police are involved, as are some mild erm , threats to personal safety. I think it would have been quite funny to see them both scratching each other's hair out and screaming at each other, but i'll settle for necking cocktails, and dancing badly.

I hope I never get to an age where I can't see the point of having fun, laughing and letting my hair down. Last week in Leeds one of the bars we went to (the Living Rooms)was full of people all over 40. We weren't sure if we'd walked into a birthday party by mistake, or whether this was just a gathering of older people who wanted to get out and have fun. Either way, we left feeling uncomfortable, just as we would have done if we'd have walked into a bar full of 16 year olds. Funny that 'comfort' in being out relies not only on your venue, the music, lighting, company of your friends, but also so much on whether or not you class your fellow revellers as 'like' you. But isn't that dull. Does that mean I'm only relaxed when I'm in a bar with lots of outgoing bubbly,middle class late 20's professionals, with a penchant for cheesy music, and expensive tastes. And when I describe that, I conjour up images of really awful people. Strange.

Last night I had the most revolting dream ever. I dreamt that Steve and I were eating raw chicken breasts coated in some kind of hallucinogenic drug...he munched his down and said it was tasty but I remember chewing on the rubbery flesh and woke up feeling quite sick.

In other news, I've packed my bags with the following essential items for holiday:

1) Bikinis- x6
2) fins, mask, logbook and diving computer x 1 each
3) Flipflops- x2 one gold, one silver.
4) Summery dress- x3
5) Linen trousers- x 1
6) Vest tops- x 6
7) T-shirts x 1
8) Long sleeve top- x1
9) Bras and knickers x10 (don't know why as never wear either on sunny hols)
10)Books, sunglasses, cosmetics, sun cream and other products.

Pretty good capsule packing that ey?! Steve on the other hand packed the following:

1) Socks. SOCKS. x 5 pairs.
2) Long sleeved t-shirts- x3
3) Jumpers- x 2
4) T-shirts by Diesel- x 15
5) Shorts/boardies- x10
6) Pants x 10.
7) Flip flops.

31 degrees and sunny every day and the boy packs socks. He's not taking trainers so I'm scared he might wear them with the flip flops. Thank goodness the yanks are there, and are bound to be dressed much more distastefully than us.