Enjoy New Year’s Eve
I’ve discovered that a lot of people aren’t fans of welcoming January 1st with open arms. Momentous expectations, friends pretending that they “don’t know what they’re going to do for it” even though they clearly have plans, and the realisation that January – the month with the highest rate of divorces and other cheery statistics – is once again upon us. So, this NYE I decided to do things differently. Last year, I was insulted by a friend’s (we’ll use the term ‘friend’ loosely here) father who asked if I’d “lightened up yet” even though I last saw him about seven years ago and in the meantime he’d cheated on his wife with a girl my age (20) and got her pregnant (so you could say I should have been asking him if he’d “kept it in his pants” that Christmas) and the previous year I was told I looked like a frigid school teacher. SO. I vowed to myself that this year would be different. It had to be. It simply could not get any worse.
I hopped on a train down to London and spent NYE with my surprise-party-co-ordinator extraordinare Saskia. We started off the night playing Mastermind – don’t worry, it does get more exciting – and then progressed to glasses of Prosecco with the neighbours. The run up to midnight was spent at one of Saskia’s friend’s houses in Earlsfield, where about 12 of us were cooked an amazing lasagna which we washed down with what ended up being glasses of Champagne with the odd shot of Vodka thrown in. Why not? It’s Christmas after all, isn’t it?? Nobody in their right mind would allow that sort of behaviour at any other time of year I’m sure of it.
We were screaming answers to an excellent game of Salad Bowl – if you don’t know what that game is then you must ask me for instructions immediately and commence play, it is great fun, and all kissed and hopped around with excitement as we watched the fireworks and countdown on BBC 1. It was perfect – I don’t think I’ve ever spent a better ‘countdown’. What happened next, well, it was great but it was also a downward spiral into debauchery and by debauchery I mean too much alcohol and hence, too much fried food. We went to The Goat in Clapham, followed by Dogstar in Brixton, both of which are very hazy in my memory. What I do remember is the two food stops we made. Once half way through our time at Dogstar, to Cottage Chicken at about 3am, and then again to Mcdonalds at the end of the night-should-I-say-morning at 6am. Why you ask? Because it’s…oh crap, I don’t know why. I was drunkenly in bed by 7:30am and joyfully up again at 10:30am as Saskia jumped on my bed like an excited child on Christmas morning to let me know that her parent’s annual New Year’s Day drinks and nibbles party was starting in approximately two hours time. That’s right, I had to be looking respectable and totally un-horrifically-hungover in no time at all. The rest of the day involved a lot of tea, nibbles and laughing with Saskia’s neighbours. It was random, it was bonkers, it was brilliant and I hope to spend all my future New Year’s in a similar fashion.