Apologies

My problem with partying, excitement and consuming a moderate amount of alcohol (anything over 1 glass of wine) is that I simply will never ever be 'plastered and orderly' and so I then spend the next 2 days apologising to anyone I may have/definitely offended. 

Todays apologies include Mr. P for pretending you pinched my bottom, Farmer Jim/Bear Grylls for downing your drink which happened to be the last pint in the house, the band for doing a disservice to your cool tunes with my usual Zebra-on-acid dance (at the time I think I look something between Gisele and Gwen Stefani with the rhythm of Beyoncé) and apologies to my husband for being the excitable dwarf lunatic (but thanks) that you kindly humour me with a rendition of the 'chain saw' - a mesmerising dance routine involving a pretend, heavy and out of control chain saw - that perhaps makes me look ever so slightly more sober.

Parties don't feature regularly on my calendar and I am slowly losing any vague social aptitude I once had. This week amongst potty training and number learning there is going to be a bit of work on my own etiquette.