SO the great and the good gathered together in solemn contemplation as the Xmas party took place to celebrate, or was it to commisserate, the end of Wales on Sunday as a separate entity in the new era of Meeja Wales.
Well, to be fair, there weren't too many miserable faces as past and present members of that great institution got together again to consume vast quantities of alcohol and then forget everything that went on. The London WoS contingent turned out in force - the fabulous Baker Boy, Rosey, Becks and Ballsy Ballinger were all there to sip a few sherbets with the rest of us. Also present, if I can remember, were lifetime membership WoS-ite Bram 'the little Bowling Ball' Humphries, wacky old Woody, myself, the Prince of Darkness, Shutts, Mad Liz, Danny Boy (the Poipes, the poipes), the wonderful Withers of WoS, Monsieur de La Busier and Wathanovski.
One of the biggest mistakes was to get into a round with this lot in possibly the most expensive drinking establishments in Wales. The Yard was selling the Italian Brew Peroni for an astonishing £3.85 which even had the Baker Boy exclaiming: "It's even more expensive than London!"
As the beer flowed we began to get more boisterous, well I know I did, and later we went on to Six Feet Under where things all got a bit silly. At some stage, in short order, I managed to go barmy and sack my best man and Wathanovski somehow succeeded in abusing a barman and getting himself chucked out. In sympathy, we all walked out en masse and headed for the City Arms. Horror of horrors it was shut - on a Sunday night!
There was only one place that would take us in our stumbling form after that: The Lava Lounge. And though I didn't see out the evening it appears that Rosey, the only man among us who was able to recall anything, gave a full progress report to Coggsy on the phone the day afterwards.
When Wren and I visited Coggs and his Mrs Kempy the day after we were told a string of things which I had no recollection of at all.
And there were others that were completely denied - like the fact that the Wonderful Withers locked lips with a certain member of our group, and I don't mean Ballsy or the fab BB. Not true! said Withers, although his vehement denial prompted me to suggest: "Methinks, tho doth protest too much."
I guess it all depends on who you believe - storyteller Rosey or forgetful drunk Withers.
Next instalment, Xmas dinner at the House of Paps.