Dec 22
Bob, Will, Lynne, Bill, Jim, Steve G, Bobb, Barbara, Jeanette (only to give everyone a bag of coffee), Ray, Lisa, Ian, Gloria, Andy
A distinctly festive air about Conrads tonight, everyone looking forward to Christmas, several planning trips out of town or even out of state, to visit relatives - and they even seemed to be looking forward to it. Just shows how a few reindeer can crack up the spirit of bonhomie. Yo. Ho. Ho.
Ray and I were wearing matching velvet jackets, red for him, blue for me. No Santa hats this week, though. You can go too far.
Bob surprised the early arrivals by being the first, plonked firmly midtable, coat on, book in hand - about film, inevitably. 'Some academic from Toronto, I mean just listen to this....' Bob wasn't impressed, but he nobly ploughed on.
Lynne and I complained of the cold, especially at home. We'd already been regaled by Will with tales of his freezing home, and Bob was in no doubt that it's the fault of global warming - presumably because someone else is getting the warm weather we should be having. I mean, snow in the San Gabriels! The very idea!
While Will puts coats on his bed, Bob confied that he wears a nightshirt, like someone out of a Dickens novel - pick a character to suit. Bob had at least heard of draft excluders called sausages, common in chilly Britain, hard to find in California. No double glazing. Cracks in between double doors. Bob admitted he sometimes got out of bed, put on the central heating then got in his car and drove around while the house warmed up. There has to be a better way, I can't help feeling.
Jeanette turned up with a large box of bags of Steve's special blend of coffee beans - minus Steve, who was ill, as was Edgar. Probably the same long-lasting cold that I have had and Lynne is catching. Winters, who needs 'em?
Ian turned up at about 7.30, hotfoot from retrieving Regina from her brother's grand-sounding mansion in Pacific Palisades, probably the very least that a top honcho from Goldman Sachs could be expected to put up with. Ian seemed happy to be back in the warm bosom of Conrads, though.
Merry Christmas to Javier and everyone who pops in on the Monday night crowd - however briefly or infrequently. This bonhomie is infectious, dammit.
CAUGHT ON THE BREEZE
You'll shoot your eyes out - Barbara's t-shirt, from Christmas Story.
My other t-shirt says: 'Be nice. I know Santa.'
Mutt and Jeff has been going 100 years but it's been lame for the last 50 years
Javier, there is no red sauce with the spaghetti, it's just the meat. Pass the ketchup!
It was a moral gesture, nevertheless I'll take the immoral dollar
It's a bad sign if you own more cars than books
We had a Christmas show but we couldn't get in the mood
The whole trick is not to do too much- but isn't that true of life?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment