Mr A and I have been to a party. In London. Where it is busy, and expensive, and alive, and where I find myself feeling a little lost, and foreign, and a bit old (although nowhere near as old as on New Year's Eve). It was a good party, though, aside from the fact that we were expecting dinner to start at 8.15 and dancing at 10, but by 11 o'clock we'd only been served two courses. We did squeeze in a bit of dancing, so Mr A is still suffering a little from his knees, and from staying up past his bedtime, and from spending all of Sunday wandering around the London Transport Museum in Covent Garden.
We stayed with Lola II of course, who also came to the party, and even complimented me on my recent shopping achievement in the shape of a coat and a necklace. I took me a whole day to buy that coat, and two days for the necklace, but it was worth it. I won't have to do any more shopping for new clothes for ages. Sister D was also there, so we had a good old photo-fest, and took loads of pictures, some of which came out well enough to be suitable for the family calendar we produce every year.
On the work front, I have survived the encounter with Occupational Health. The nurse explained the current policy is to test everyone for overt and latent tuberculosis, whether they have evidence of BCG inoculation or not, and for measles, which is now classed as a threat (presumably because of the reluctance to immunise children following the MMR vaccine fiasco). Other than that, we discussed hand care, and confirmed that the soap used is paraben- and tocopherol-free, but now I am suspicious of the alcohol rub, having examined the ingredients of a small bottle the nurse had on her desk and found tocopheryl acetate. I will have to follow this one up.
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