Why do we have this obsession for seeing the new year in? It’s going to happen whatever we do. About now I’m sick of seeing mediocre acts on Jool’s hollands Hootenanny and would prefer to just disapear up to bed with a cup of horlicks, and jump into bed in my winciette pyjamas and a hot water bottle. (I made that last bit up).
Instead I shall nurse another large drink until midnight, and then slink quietly off to my slough of despond in the hope that I’ll wake in time for lunch.
