The Christmas shoes...

'Make sure you put your drinking shoes on'...

These were the parting words from my 'young enough to be my son' boss, Mr W, as I left Binland yesterday lunchtime.  It's the Binland Christmas Party on Saturday night, and Mr W and me are the only two members of the sales team who will now be going.  The two youngsters, Master J and Master P have cried off for various reasons, most of them perfectly viable, and I had joked with Master J yesterday morning that it would be my responsibility to keep Mr W on the straight and narrow (by the sounds of it, this is a road seldom trod).  

So what on earth are 'drinking shoes'?  I pondered this yesterday while walking the three dogs around the field.  (This was interesting because my two have only one speed, which is Top, while our lovely house guest Sidney, likes to take a more ponderous walk, taking time to sniff every blade of grass.  Between shouting 'Whoa boys!' and 'Come on, Sid', we managed a lovely walk and the three of them are now firm friends. How do I know this?  Well Sid has stopped doing his Elvis impersonation every time Reg comes near and Percy has removed his nose from Sidney's derriere).

Anyway, I digress.  Drinking shoes...  

Would these be shoes with a wide area touching the floor (flats then) to aid balance after one too many?  

Perhaps they are trainers so that we can go from pub to pub quickly?

Either way, I shall be wearing my kitten heels, so I am hoping that I can show some Prosecco restraint and stay upright for most of the evening.  Also, as the two establishments which have the dubious honour of hosting our party this year, are quite close together, there shouldn't be anything more necessary than ladylike staggering between the bars.

I'm the oldest one going on Saturday.  

I do hope that they won't be looking to me to be the sensible one...



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