For me, this New Years Eve was a real head fuck. Today a big chunk of me wants to miraculously wake up at the start of 2020. Or any other year other than 2021.
This time of year, for many, is a time of reflection and planning. For me both have potential for distress. I need to, yet again, steel my resolve to help me steady my path.
Two years ago the pair of us had a longstanding invitation to a New Years Eve party in the South of France. We were going. Time was tight, we were committed to family events on Christmas day, with our immediate, Boxing Day my brother Richard’s birthday, and the 27th Tricia’s mother’s birthday. So on the night of the 28th we found ourselves drinking a celebratory bottle of champagne on a Brittany ferry from Plymouth to Roscoff with a 500 mile drive the other side. (Very Proclaimers).
Was it worth the effort? You bet! I was in remission and in a mood to party. Throughout the evening of the party, despite Tricia’s protestations, I had managed to consume copious amounts of sleeping potion which oddly didn’t take effect until about 4am. Oh! How we all sung Auld Lang Syne. Tricia and I polished up well in formal garb, met with old friends and new, ate fabulous food and danced and sung the night away. There were roaring fires that were so big the fuel arrived by wheelbarrow. Drink flowed all night. I can’t remember how many guests there were there, maybe 100, probably more.
Well that was then, how different our celebrations were last night. Probably record viewing figures for Jules Holland's Hootenanny. I hadn't had one drop of sleeping potion and at 8pm my bed was calling me very insistently. I succumbed but didn’t sleep.
A two person party ensued in the living room with the help of WhatsApp and Tricia’s family. It was a dancing competition. Even I, in my absence, made a video contribution.
Not a serious contender.
But at 20 to midnight I pulled on my clothes from the floordrobe and decided to see the New Year in. A few of our neighbours ventured out into the cold night air to toast in the new year and watch the fireworks. We made our now obligatory garage door entrance to the gathering and joined them.
When the children were younger we would be the ones with fireworks and parties. Not so this year.
I suppose I could reminisce about any topic that will guarantee to bore you all.
So why am I stressed about entering 2021? Well if you can’t work it out find the blog exit now. Just over there under the big red EXIT sign.
However if you're a bit confused, read on.
You see my prognosis very strongly suggests that for the next New Year's Eve celebrations I’ll be one of the absent friends. So for 2021, in the time I get given, I have things to do. With the roll out of the vaccine I hope a realistic plan will be to have at least one more party. I have memories to make, I have songs to sing, dances to dance and friends to hold.
And for extra good measure, this morning my eldest daughter Vicky has informed me that she and her partner Tam have become engaged, we're all thrilled, but not only that, as I write this, we have all received our negative Covid test results.
A great start!
So 2021. Come and get me, I’m as ready as I can be!
Happy New Year!