Putting my old curmudgeon hat on..

Meditations on the last night of the year.. hope all is well with you.

NYE 09/10 was one of the most restful events of my life. The missus was away, so I picked up a cheeky bottle of white from the offie settled down in front of my ‘How I Met Your Mother’ box set, and went to bed at half past ten! Awoke refreshed at eight to a majestic clear blue sky without a single cloud. Met one of my buddies and took a delightful stroll down the Thames at Hampton Court. All topped off with a salty bacon roll from the local café, what could be nicer?

Let’s be honest, December 31st ain’t what it’s cracked up to be. In years gone by I’ve got myself into countless states of slavering anticipation prior to the big night. My and my buddies used to plan it months in advance. We’d be asking ‘what you doing for New Years?’ in September, it was that much of a big deal. When the time came, we’d pile into our local pub, before stumbling out to see what the world threw at us. As time went by the venue changed, but the format stayed the same.

• Preparation: What clothes am I wearing? Do I have my train ticket/passport/hotel room reservation?
• Warm Up: Find first venue and start drinking steadily, sit down and eat, just in case.
• The Main Event: More consumption, culminating in a frenzied build-up to midnight and a couple of hours more hard partying.
• Aftermath: retire to a quieter venue for lighter intoxication, retire to an uncomfortable sleeping place at dawn (not necessarily a bed, any horizontal surface would do).

January 1st is inevitably a write-off, waking up at dawn with sunlight streaming into the room, the rest of the day is spent fighting waves of nausea and trying to get the head together for the inevitable first day at work. In the cold light of (New Years) day, the festivities and enforced bonhomie ring pretty shallow. I remember a fancy dress party a couple of years back, we stayed up till six before retiring to the couch in the front room. I woke at 8, dressed as Napoleon, reeking of booze with a bad back, courtesy of a lumpy sofa. Or, a couple of years before, we caught the first train back from London to pick up the car, then sat in a 7.30am downpour before getting home. The three words running through my mind were ‘Was that it?’ Takes the sheen of a brand New Year, doesn’t it?

In mitigation, my experiences mostly tend to be hangover based, Ill admit that. Still, the lengths I went to ‘have a good time’ seem extravagant and unnecessary in hindsight. It’s just a day unlike any other, if someone needs an excuse to go wild, Dec 31st is as good as any. Id rather have a good nights sleep, myself..