Time to plan the Christmas party. Tradition dictates that it is a lunchtime occasion, the principal supplies the pre-luncheon drinks and the board of management foots the bill for the meal.

Veronica is making the arrangements this year.

"We'll have it in the local hotel," she proposes at the 11 o'clock break.

"There is no way I'm going to have Billy Smith from fifth year counting the number of drinks I had," blurts out Joe.

"Last year he regaled the whole class with stories of the state in which each teacher left the premises at closing time - and they didn't lose in the telling!"

Pat, who brought a whole new meaning to what "having a senior moment" entailed, appeared to be having an "intellectual spasm" this time round.

"No turkey and ham this year," he moaned, and don't inflict me with the Fields of Athenry!"

Pat was a classical pianist in his day and just hated to hear a good song murdered.

Patricia wants to forget last year's party.

"You certainly made your mark with the boss at last year," ventures Tom, who never misses an opportunity to open old wounds.

Patricia, whose first staffroom party it was, had started off on the wrong foot by joining a group of "hard drinkers" at the pre-luncheon reception.

When the meal was over she engaged the principal in some erudite conversation until the mixture of intoxicants got the better of her and she threw up all over him.

The aftermath of Christmas parties is notorious for teachers getting gripes off their chest.

The principal and members of the board are torn between staying on and acting the perfect hosts, or slipping silently away before being buttonholed by a disenchanted teacher.

Having observed what happened to the principal they all decided that flight was the better part of valour.