So gone are the New Year’s eves when you bought a ticket months in advance for a club. Then stood outside that club for hours waiting to get in, even though it was metres away from a raging inferno of a derelict building, as burning embers fell onto the pavement. (OK so that only happened one time… but I can still smell it in my nightmares…)
This year/last year (I’ve lost track now – I’ve been thinking this year was going to be 2017 for ages). It’s all about eating what’s left of the Christmas food; watching ET for the gazillionth time as your husband rediscovers himself as a DJ hunched over the kichen table on his computer deck thingumybob. (He’s not bad actually…even my unicorn slippers are tapping).
The Childerbeast are hiding away upstairs tinkling with their tech and I keep trying to scare up a game of Trivial Pursuit.
Party on dudes! Let’s rock!