The Portable Party

The final work party of the year found us in quite a jovial mood. We were told that this was party: the one everyone attended; the one everyone enjoyed most; the one we'd love most. We were so in. The promise of fish and chips was a tad odd: would we dine in the same Styrofoam containers we did when we last ate the English fare fave in the cafeteria? Sounded a bit strange, but boy, were we up for it.

Hopping into a cab with Ryan and his visitors from Canada, we were giddy at the notion that we all thought this was a barbecue but we'd heard rumors of a disco. What kind of party could this be?

Turned out, it was one good lookin' party. Ha! I guess that's besides the point.

This is what we paid a mere ten pounds to witness: a portable decked out with a bar and the tackiest decorations one could throw up on walls and in door frames. God, I love a cheesy party.



I'll take it.

There were the obligatory grin-ny pics as we planned a summer away from the faces we had grown to know so well...

This is the whole lot of us, blurry and with a Brit hanging on to the glory that is a Canadian Picture. I guess we'll take that too.

Drinks were about £2 so it's accurate to say we had more than our fare share.

(Note: is this not the cutest picture? Yes, yes it is.)

Pete: more often than not, the Man of the Hour.

Emma, Emma, and myself.

Oh, but the love was flowing...

And, as usual, Jocelyn and I took our show on the road for some, shall we say, arty posing. Dear me.



For the last time as crew, we made it a great night.



Let it be said again, because it deserves to be said, you'll be missed immensely.