Fruit cases and balloons

Paul is going round the office drawing faces on balloons. Everyone who is leaving the office this week is getting one. They're going to act as a reminder to those that are left of their former work colleagues. Just in case the twelve that are left forget about them, as we walk through the large, desolate, empty office, through the many abandoned desks and computers leading the way through the room.
Paul is using his fantastic artistic skills, perhaps picked up in a far and distant episode of Play School, to draw happy, smiling, rather freaky looking faces. Bright, coloured bulbs, swaying about on sellotape attached to their computer monitors, grinning with sparkling felt tip eyes, shiny pink lips and coloured hair. I'm sure Felix will make his way round the room with a pin at some point, but for the moment they sway at their various posts throughout the large office, like hot air scarecrows. Unfortunately Gail was the first to pop, leaving a pathetic flop of rubber hanging from her monitor. I think she may have inadvertantly taken part in one of the many games of Piggy in the Middle that Mary, Tricia and Paul were playing as they whiled away their second last shift.
Margaret brought in two giant strawberry sponge cakes for everyones' tea breaks, plastered in cream and icing sugar. Not good for those of us on diets, with fruit for lunch but they were eaten all the same.
We'll miss Margaret's cakes. Cheesecakes and banana loaves were the norm with Margaret and Mary. They'd quite often bake a big cake and bring it in, in order to share with DVD Andy, Creamy Chicken John, Stuart, Gareth, Lost Ian and myself. Tempting us with cream cakes while at the same time threatening us with the cupboard if we misbehaved... Our small, coffee break crew has changed over the past few years, with Lost Ian being the first to suffer the dreaded redundancy, Gareth leaving for better things (well, Rangers News anyway) and Stuart now falling foul of the big 'R'. Both Mary and Margaret are leaving this week, along with Tricia, Heather, Julie, Mandy, Gail, Paul, Gary, Alison, Linda, Paula, JP, Diana, Cameron, Davey and big 1066, sorry David Hastings. Absolutely gutted so many people are going. A real loss to S&UN, everyone of them... most of them anyway.
On Saturday night it was the Prepress night out and, from 8 onwards, we were in Arta. Ka was in town shopping with her Mum during the day, so I met up with her afterwards for the cinema and then a short walk down to Arta, the club notorious between my wife and I for being my false alibi on the night of my Glasgow Stag night.
Arta is a rather trendy bar and club, in Glasgow's Merchant City, with decor including stone statues, big comfy chairs, tall candelabras, thick, patterned curtains, giant paintings and vast amounts of fake fruit piled up in baskets. Not sure what the fake fruit is all about but together it all looks splendid. Jill, a good facebook pal and former employee of S&UN, liked the fake fruit so much, she took some for herself and even tucked some oranges down her trousers to try and convince us all, if any of us were in any doubt, that she does indeed 'have balls'. Obviously she's only got the mental balls, the fake fruit looked slightly artificial down her trousers. Well, to most it does.
Ka had part of her Glasgow hen night there just under two years ago and, after a few bottles of champagne or two, Aunty Nancy decided to nick the fruit basket at her table, believing it to be real. Now she has balls. Walking out of Arta with a fruit basket can't be easy to do. Aunty Nancy still insists to this day that the pineapple was real.
It's also got Monks. When the hour strikes (the specific hour I can't quite recall) a monk strides out on to the stone staircase, his face hidden by his oversized hood, and bangs a large gong and as the sounds of opera fill the air, rose petals start to drift down from the ceiling covering all those waiting on entry to the downstairs club. Looking up I could see the waiters and waitresses from the restaurant upstairs, standing over us, on the balcony, emptying large, wooden caskets filled with the petals. As we waited and I watched the milling crowds queuing up below I considered how unfortunate it would be if one of those large caskets slipped from one of the waiters' fingers. It would be especially unfortunate as I'd left my British Red Cross badge and card at home. I had no proof that I was a First Aider?! Linda, Anna and Tam were all office First Aiders too, mind you, so the unfortunate clubber would probably survive. Unless another falling casket hit one of the giant baskets of fruit, sending a whole pile of oranges and apples down over the top of them. After a few moments he, or she, would realise it was all fake fruit and fight his way out the pile to freedom, only to be hit by a pineapple falling from the bottom of the basket, which would knock him out cold.
"Told you!" Aunty Nancy would shout, popping her head out from behind one of the thick, patterned curtains.
Anyway, we were eventually allowed entry to the club below, brushing petals off our shoulders, and all had a pretty good night. Ka and myself left around one in the morning to get a bus, leaving the majority drunk and happy, dancing and loopy, posing for the camera or playing with their fruit.

Panic over

Quiet Saturday morning. My mother came to the rescue in the bridemaid dresses scenario with her best mate, Morag, who just happens to have a daughter who owns a dress shop, for Wedding like occasions. Very handy. So Ka, the two Mums and Lynsey Ann went along on Saturday morning and picked some new dresses while I lounged infront of the tv watching the new Battlestar Galactica. Panic over. Thank the maker, as it will certainly make my life a bit quieter and bring the Wedding Stressometer back down to bearable.
On Saturday evening it was a quick bus trip into Glasgow for a great meal in Arta in Glasgow's Merchant City. A brilliant meal of 2 courses for only £7.99 each. An email offer I received last Thursday, probably through having booked on the brilliant 5pm.co.uk before. A brilliant website which offers great deals on all your local restaurants, bars and clubs regularly. However, I'm not sure the Polish staff knew about half the offers going on as they attempted to charge me £12.99 each for the meals after having delivered us with the wrong starters. Needless to say, I pointed out their error and they were all very nice about it. Ka read it as me chatting them up but I was only trying to get the deal I had been offered. We followed the meal with the traditional Arta cocktails downstairs in the lounge bar area at a candlelit table, surrounded by large staring statues and Narnia wardrobes. Arta is a very mixed bar with people of all ages enjoying a Saturday night tipple from teenagers and students to desperate housewives and David Brents. Some of which looked as if they had indeed escaped from one of the Narnia wardrobes. As time progressed the bar soon went from empty to jammed at which point we escaped to the club downstairs to a last drink before heading home for the bus.
Up, and straight to the gym on Sunday after Ka completed another dose of her beloved housework. A quick swim and a swelter in the sauna later, I then proceeded on to the hospital to see Gran Reid only to find the Symingtons and Millers already round the bed. Looking better and hopeful of an escape, Gran was sitting up in bed and patiently waiting for the Monday and the Doctor's visit which she was hoping would send her home. As the visitor numbers were already too many, I stayed only for fifteen minutes and headed off to the supermarket in order to buys eggs for the meatballs and spaghetti Ka was making for dinner that evening. Sharon, a friend from Art school, now living in LA and working for Dreamworks, was over on holiday visiting her Dad who has just turned sixty. While she was over, she made time to come over to EK and visit us. Sharon said it gave the the opportunity to show her new man definite proof that she is not alone in being a Scottish nutter. Another Michael. Mike the skydiver. Thankfully he turned out to be a top bloke and was very complimentary of Ka's meatballs. Sharon looked happy and gave the impression of having a far better time in LA now than she had been having on her last visit over here. We promised to visit LA and California soon. Ka, impressed with Sharon's new man, gave her the quiet thumbs up and nod as they left. Their next stop, Glen Coe and a trip to visit Claire up in Dundee.
While Sharon was away from LA and over here in Bonnie Scotland the usual glitz and glam of the red carpet in Hollywood was going on in the Oscars. Great to see Slumdog Millionaire get recognised to such a brilliant extent. The lovely Kate Winslet also got her oscar finally - not sure if she should have won against Angelina Jolie's great performance in 'Changeling' though but I've not even seen 'The Reader' so I don't really have the right to comment on that yet.