I've just been to my office Christmas party - and it didn't quite work out.
Okay, so it was - as ever - billed as our Christmas lunch. But, in previous years, we've stayed out all day and I've made it home on the last train - just.
I've then stopped off at the 24-hour Asda, en route from the station, bought a family-sized pie, put it in the oven and - once cooked - dropped it on the floor. It's a tradition I've become quite fond of.
I expected more of the same today but unfortunately it wasn't to be.
First we had a series of cry offs. Then we ended up in a restaurant without a licence. And in said restaurant, we were crammed into a corner and, whilst the food was good, there wasn't a cracker to be pulled never mind a Christmas tune to be hummed along to. And, less the two hours later, we were back at our desks.
It's such a shame we'll be forced to wait another 52 weeks for the next gathering.
To be fair, the picture I paint is more bleak then the reality.
For one, a quick-thinking councillor and I got around the dryness of the restaurant by nipping to the offy up the road.
And the company was good, although there was still the whiff of the air one tends to find after the deceased has been buried; "yes, we'll have a quick sandwich but we'd really need to be off."
Some of us who returned to the office did at least crack open a couple of cans of beer when we got there. But, in truth, the horse had long since died so there was little point in hopping up and down on the poor nag's tail.
Slightly on the up side, tonight is Coronation Street night and there are also two episodes of Gavin and Stacey - which I've only just discovered - on the other side. Plus there's no danger of me being arrested for doing something silly.
But it still seems like a bit of a wasted opportunity.