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Christmas season and The Dean Swift, Butlers Wharf

What does Christmas season mean? Drinking, drinking, and more drinking.

Thursday's work party meant photo booth pics and a flutter at some black jack.


Friday night was a trip up to Essex, and some time with the family, making myself sick on chocolates and bailey's. 

Saturday was lunch with the Colchester crew.


Followed by 80's disco dress up for my baby sister-in-law's 21st birthday.


(I'm somewhat concerned that my 7 year old nice was chanting "down it, down it, down it!" as we did shots.)

And Sunday was our annual Christmas lunch with the London family at The Dean Swift where we got to meet the newest member of our gang.


Their upstairs dining room was buzzing by 1pm, and the pork belly was all gone by 1:30pm...so get there early to make sure you get what you want. 


Roasts were unanimously voted as delicious, the chorizo burger wasn't as crash hot. Everyone enjoyed their starters, and, of course, the wine. 









Dirty Santa was a definite winner rather than our usual Secret Santa. The CG ended up with earrings. Twice. 


Only one more party before we're off on our pre-Christmas, delayed honeymoon. Life is hard, dudes, really hard.

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