Why does such a wonderful time of year come with so many terrible parties?

‘I need a drink.’

Penny nods. ‘I’ll come with you.’

On the way to the drinks area, Chris, the office pervert who proudly announced with glee after the last office move that he could see my desk from his new position, appears out of nowhere.

‘Bea, you look like you want to be unwrapped.’ He winks. Everyone knows I’m a fan of a pun, but not in this situation. I do not want to be unwrapped, and no sentence ever previously uttered has made me want to hit someone more. I am disappointed in myself for not being as confrontational as I could, and possibly should, be. But I say nothing and walk away, though I do make a mental note to send him on a compulsory course about discrimination in the workplace as part of my new role.

After grabbing a drink and some snacks, making sure to hide extras inside my box, I am abandoned by Penny, who is too kind to ignore the boring office people wanting to talk to her.

Pondering the point of a work Christmas party, I can’t say I’m enjoying myself, but I have to confess that they’re good for one thing – putting everyone on an even footing. Everyone here feels just as out of place as the next cracker, no matter if you’re the MD or the newest assistant. Everyone feels odd wearing fancy dress in a room where we normally hold our quarterly reviews. And everyone is hoping that with the new year will come a new range of memories to wipe out any shameful acts and secret confessions shared on nights exactly like this.

Doing a scan of the room, I can tell that nobody feels more out of place than Joan. She’s wearing a sad homemade outfit that I think is meant to be a Christmas pudding. On a baby it would probably look endearing. But Joan isn’t a baby.

I decide to go speak to her; after all, I believe Christmas is a time for forgiveness.

‘Hi.’

She turns and seems genuinely happy to see me. ‘Oh, well hello there, Bea.’

I’m glad I came over to say hi, but I don’t quite know what to say now that the pleasantries are over. I really want to avoid a boring, predictable conversation about Christmas plans. Mainly because I have none except going home and eating all the mini chocolates and cheese I can find.

But she takes a big inhale of breath, and it sounds as if she’s going to take the plunge for me.

‘So … any plans for Christmas?’

Later in the evening, too many wines in, Penny hunts me down with a determination I rarely see in her, and takes me to the stationery cupboard for a confessional. We barely fit with our costumes on – I have to reverse shuffle in as there’s no room to turn around. I’ve barely managed to shoehorn myself into the closet before Penny starts talking.