I loved New Year’s Eve when the clock striking midnight was an excuse to snog every bloke within coo-ee. Now, not so much.
It’s too crazy, too fraught with small children, too exhausting … and spewing into a rosebush while staggering along a footpath trying to hail a cab is no longer my idea of a fun night.
Whenever I have ventured out in recent years I’ve found myself getting prim about all the scantily teenagers tottering past, slurring and cackling. Please let that never be any child of mine. But … ohhhhhh god noooooo … it will be, won’t it …
The Household doesn’t have a single plan for this evening, other than a bowl of spag bol in front of the tellie.
OK, there haven’t exactly been invitations galore … or invitations to anything at all, to be honest … but we haven’t sought company out either.
We were invited up the coast to where the brother and sister-in-law are continuing the family holiday, but the thought of driving two and a half hours, drinking too much in an attempt to stay lively until 12, sleeping on the floor then hauling our butts into the car at some ungodly hour so we can get Husband to work by 9am holds limited appeal.
I have my fingers tightly crossed that the Not So Neighbourly Neighbours behave. But if they don’t I have a pair of earplugs and a Unisom at the ready.
The thing I’m really looking forward to is New Year’s Day. I’m hoping to treat it like a new beginning. A chance to start afresh, to cut down on the carbs, the alcohol and the negative thinking.
How about you? What are your plans? Any New Year’s resolutions?