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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Urgh. I spent last night metaphorically up to my elbows in dead Germans. Really, it's too much. I don't know why we chose this particular events management firm, they don't seem to know what the hell they're doing. I think the manager must be an old flame of Eoin's, he did seem awfully keen to get them on board once I had mentioned the launch. I'm not convinced they're even a real firm - no one has business cards, and surely no one in their right mind turns up to a meeting wearing torn jeans and stinking of incense.

On the plus side, the guest list is looking quite good. Apparently we have confirmation of some reality television celebrities coming along - I'm not entirely sure what one of them is, but Eoin seems quite keen. He suggested that some of them might even be kind enough to sing at one of the events, but I'm
not sure that's a good idea. The only one of these shows that I've seen had gardeners in it, and I didn't think they had particularly good voices. There was lovely brass music in the background, but I was distracted by the realisation that one of them wasn't even wearing her full quotient of underwear... sorry, I'm digressing.

Now that the dead Germans have been sent to their rightful destinations I can once again start relaxing. I booked myself and Eoin in for manicures and pedicures this afternoon, and then when he went to lie down for his early evening nap, I had an anaesthetist come over to knock him out and take him to London for the first half of the night. He's more than familiar with the feeling of waking up and not knowing where he is, so I'm sure he will start to enjoy himself, particularly once he sees the swans.

This entry was posted on 01 February 2003 at 6:35 pm. 0 comments

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