A few years ago I might have spent New Year’s Eve at a trendy London party with lots of creative media types and the odd smattering of minor celebrity. I would give the impression that these things were run of the mill for me, but inside I was always secretly ecstatically excited in the kind of I’ve-got-a-crush-on-you manner of a teenage girl.
Fast forward to 2004 and in my current role as a mother I spent the evening at home with my family with several bottles of champagne and watching the (really quite good) fireworks in London on the television. It was a really nice night.
Even so, I’d like to say that last night’s New Year’s Eve celebrations were better than those of my youth but it would be blatantly untrue.
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At least you used to have rocking new years eves. Mine sucked. Happy New Nothing.