Gluhwein and Office Stalkers

Managed to scam a late start for work today. Didn’t have to get up in the dark to just get to work. Made my way in on the train after a leisurely breakfast, and I’ve actually made myself look presentable this morning. (I’m loving living in Glasgow again, hating the commute…although, I’ve yet to do it properly.)

Goatee suggested we head to the Christmas market last night, but it shuts at 8pm, so I sneakily ducked out of work a bit early so we could get there with a few hours to spare. The only person who would have even cared if I left early was RobotPA, but there’s something totally weird going in that place and if she pays attention to anything it should be that. But, I’ll get to that in a moment.

There’s something about a Christmas market that I love. The Gluhwein and piney feel of it all. It makes Christmas feel real, like when I was a kid, and the holiday felt like a living thing. Like a special relative coming to stay.

Goatee and I had a good wander, and I bought a couple of trinkets for my mum, and Goatee bought some cured meats. He talked about the markets in Vienna and how it’s one of his favourite Christmas traditions. He started to tell me about his sister who lives there when I interrupted him to remind him that I did, indeed, join him at his sister’s house one year for Christmas.

‘I guess I forgot,’ he said and he kind of blushed. ‘I must be getting old.’

‘Getting old?’ I joked. ‘Or, maybe you’re just repressing a memory.’

Then it all went kind of silent and awkward. Was he repressing us living together and dating? Okay, maybe not repressing in that psycho-babble sort of way, but did he just forget about us? How can he forget I spent Christmas with his family in Vienna?

To cut the silence we stopped a little Christmas baubble stand and I had Goatee help me pick one out for mum. Something for her new/old house. Yes, it’s the same house she’s had for years, but this will be the first Christmas that it’s hers. And, I wanted to get her a special holiday decoration. We chose a small angel made out of wire and lace and fabric. Okay, when I type that out it sound horrendous. But, not only is it quite intricate and lovely, my mum’s all into angels and that sort of stuff. So, she’ll love it.

We walked a bit and I started thinking about Christmas. HP and I were having problems so long ago, so Christmas was never even discussed. But, I guess, I assumed he’d come home with me. That’s what we’ve done since his mum moved to Italy. But now, I don’t know. Or, I guess I do know. He cheated on me, walked out on me, and is only now living with me because he has no where else to go. It’s nice living in Glasgow where I don’t have to think about that.

I’ll be going home for Christmas myself this year. Well, I guess Katie will come. And, maybe Sarah would like to come home with me. Mum would adore having a house full of kids. And, Donna will be home with her new wifey. And Mike will be home. Maybe this won’t be so bad. In the meantime, I wonder if Goatee’s wife will let me stay in Glasgow. Yeah, I’m paying a mortgage on the Dundee flat, but it’s rent free at the gallery flat, so it balances out. Just until I go home for Christmas maybe. So I can think things through without having to face-up to HP.

We went back to Goatee’s house after the market and I watched telly while he cooked. On the menu last night was haggis stuffed chicken breast with whiskey sauce and steamed vegetables. I do miss having a boyfriend that can cook. And, I would have thought this would have been the sort of thing that would have taken all day to prepare, but he had it ready in about 45 minutes. His wife is a lucky woman.

After dinner I fell asleep on the sofa watching a movie, and Goatee must have moved me up into the guest bedroom because I woke up at about 4am completely disoriented. Okay, I woke up, flew out of bed in a bit of a freak out, tripped over my own feet and went crashing to the floor in an almighty bang. Goatee came running in, he thought I was being attacked or something and found me flaling about on the ground, and he started laughing and yawning at the same time.

I crawled back into bed mock angry, ‘Why didn’t you wake me up so I could go home.’

‘Go back to sleep. I’ll give you a lift back to the flat in the morning,’ and he turned the light off on the way out.

As he had promised, Goatee brought me back to the flat this morning, and made breakfast while I got ready. Eggs and sausage with toast. What’s not to love. I’m now at a café in Dundee having a cup of coffee avoiding the office.

Anyway, the office. Yesterday was so weird. So, you know how Patch had that stalker who sent him flowers, well he’s also been getting little presents left for him at the office. Just outside the office door waiting for when someone comes in. So far he’s received a set of cufflinks that look like hearts, a small photo frame with a note saying ‘The matching frame has your picture in it, what will you put in yours?’ and a pair of tube socks. They were clean and new, but tube socks is just weird.

I told him he should call the police, but he went all faux-manly to that suggestion and said, ‘And tell them what? That someone is infatuated with me? Of course they are. I mean, I’m a nice guy. I get on with everyone. I’m not wasting police time on this.’ Then he humphed out a breath and went back to work (actually, he doesn’t really work, so to be accurate, he went back to reading sports statistics online).

BigEyes is Patch’s biggest fan and she’s trying to calm his nerves by being her usual chatty annoying self, but it’s not working. I think all this stalker business may have gotten a bit too much for him because he physically avoided her all day yesterday. She would poke her head up from her desk and say, ‘I bet you have some really adorable pics of your kids from last night’s trip to see Santa,’ and he’d say nothing. Or, she’d try to bate him by singing ‘I saw mommy kissing Santa under the Christmas tree’, and then say, ‘I bet your wife doesn’t appreciate all the hard work you put in to the holidays.’

I have no idea what’s going on because usually he’d be responding with ‘well you know, I’m a Dad, it’s what I do’ or ‘yup, the Boss is the Boss. What can you do?’ He’s responded to nothing with us usual sense of self martyrisation, and I kind of like the quiet. And, he’s not been being a douche to me. He’s left me alone and stopped shredding tiny bits of paper to scam a glance of what’s on my computer. So, I’m happy.

As for MacDraggyFeet, she has missed all of this. I mean everything. She’s in the office everyday, walking back and forth opening filing cabinets, but she didn’t know Patch had a stalker, that I’m ‘doing stuff’ in Glasgow, that the Intern is leaving, or that RobotPA is in the office. On occasion she’ll take her headphones off and say, ‘Who’s that woman that keeps coming out of the cupboard’ or ‘what nice cuff links, who sent those?’

I’ve started messing with her and responding, ‘What woman? I don’t see any woman’, and MacDraggyFeet just shrugs to this and goes back to digging through the filing cabinet.

Well, it’s almost noon, and I said I’d be in to work about now. Need to go catch the bus. I wonder what little present has been left for Patch today?

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