Sausage in Banter

“There are drunk teachers everywhere,” a barman whispered at me on Wednesday night, before telling me all the schools in the area with teachers that like a drink at the end of term. I think he had a complicated system for ranking them and my school were probably at the top (or bottom, depending on your viewpoint). This was at bar 8 of the 12 bars of Christmas which comes at the end of the fun bit. As a non drinker I always enjoy bars four to eight: the work talk has stopped, there is a genuine relaxed funniness and it hasn’t started to get messy.

I love the people I work with and one day they will make a great sitcom. I keep warning them that a staffroom based sitcom is a good idea.

Our last school day was a great episode.

After church there was an extra long playtime, where coffee, broken mince pies, biscuits and chocolates were used in early preparation for the evening’s drinking. Staff were tired and the filter was beginning to slip. The language in the staffroom at the end of term is shocking and that is why teachers need holidays, to save the poor children. It is only possible to be sickly sweet with no swearing for six weeks at a time.

At lunchtime Christmas dinner was eaten in the hall with the children, so the staffroom filled up gradually, as each class went out to play.
“That was a great dinner.” We all agreed that our new kitchen staff were amazing and reminisced about passed times when we were too scared to go anywhere near the kitchen.
“Did you like your sausage?” my friend shouted down from the other end of the table.
Everyone laughed. She blushed. “I can’t believe I said that. Why did I ask you about your sausage?”
“Because you knew I couldn’t manage it. It was just too huge.”
More laughter. More blushing.
“I much prefer a small one.”
“They’re meant to be little at Christmas.”
“It was nice though.”
“Did you nibble the end?”

Let's face it, sausages are just funny.  I had seen one of the church official referred to as 'Mrs Sausage Sandwich,' on Facebook by a local cafe. It amused me so much I told my colleagues and some of the staffroom conversation was about how no one can remember her proper name any more.

I hadn't joined most of my colleagues until the bar with the whispering landlord because a few of us went for a meal first.  By then, the staff that had still been eating with their class had been told about the lunchtime sausage conversation.
"We've heard about your sausage," they said.
"Oh yes, I couldn't get it all in my mouth," I replied and winked.
"JULIA!" I was surprised at my ability to shock very drunk adults.
I noticed that my friend was missing and there was a suggestion that she had gone home because she is a lightweight but then she appeared.
"I went to get chips," she explained, "We've been sitting on the bench eating chips and a sausage in batter."

"Wouldn't it be great if the next blog that came up was, 'big sausage,'" someone said, "I'd love that."

I did intend to write it but it's Christmas. I went shopping and accidentally shoplifted some toiletries from Superdrug (I did go back and pay and no one tried to arrest me), knocked every display over in John Lewis, spent time with a chatty gas man, made a few cakes, cleaned the house, watched Elf, and made sure my sausage rolls could fit into any lady's mouth.

Then another friend sent me this picture out of the blue, which is statue at an Australian school.

I replied, "Come and feel my sausage little boy." Then I remembered that I had a blog to write.
Now, as I get to the end of it the LSH texts from the chip shop.
"They have the sausage."

There are sausages everywhere.