Monday 31 December 2012

Party fears too...



Now, you know me, I’m generally quite a happy soul with a habit of looking on the bright side, but I’ve realised that I don't actually like New Year’s Eve very much. 

Like most memorable anniversaries it seems to carry with it an underlying mood or association that, even when the events of that day are different every year, still automatically colours the way I view it in my mind, the way I feel it.   New Year’s Eve to me is:

Dark blue…  yawning…  shadows…  waiting…  the word ‘should’… bad parties…

Oh god, that party in December 1977.  I got stuck with a boy I didn’t fancy at all*.  I spent the entire evening trying to put him off, to no avail.  So I tried some kind of blank generation strategy. I told him that I had no name.  I told him I lived nowhere.  I thought you could get away with that sort of thing when you were fourteen and into Johnny Rotten (but it just seemed to add to my apparent allure).  When my dad came to pick me up in his car the illusion of my nameless non-existence may have been somewhat shattered, but it was worth a try.

And what about that party in 2004? The evening was dominated by the local self-styled ‘comic’, who seemed to have a talent for omnipresence - everywhere you turned he was there like a bad smell - but none for making people laugh, although this didn’t stop him from spewing out his ageing jokes and punning (badly) every five minutes.  There are a lot of five minutes in the lead up to midnight….We were ready to spew something ourselves, and not just because we’d eaten too many Pringles.

There have been one or two other uncomfortable New Year's Eve celebrations too, and if you have ever seen the film 'Don's Party', you may understand where I'm coming from.

So, no partying for us this year, but I probably will yawn and I probably will wait until midnight and I probably will think about all those ‘shoulds’ (and ‘should not’s).  It’s dark blue outside.  I'm staying in the shadows!

Happy New Year to all who kindly take the time to pop over here and have a look, listen or read!  Thank you.

(And I really do hope you have a good New Year's Eve, party or no party...)

"I have no name.  I live nowhere."


* In retrospect he looked a bit like Howard Devoto.  I met him again years later when he started on the Fine Art course at my college.  We went for lunch a few times and he was great to talk to - thankfully it seemed he'd forgotten all about the previous embarrassing encounter...

7 comments:

  1. Glad you had a good night's sleep! I agree about midsummer - and I'm so looking forward to summer nights.
    Well, I did stay up and happy - even found myself dancing round the room to the Hives on Hootenanny (blame it on the sparkling wine) and watching Adam Ant and Dexy's perform on there with great curiosity; they served as a timely reminder of the fact that we are all in the same boat when it comes to getting older...

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  2. New year is an odd time, isn't it? At once full of hope (perhaps) but also suffering from the post-Christmas come-down. Of course, some souls love it but I do find it a little depressing so I nearly always work every new year's eve, which I did last night. Did manage to knock-off early and was home by 11pm but in bed by 11.30pm as I was in work again first thing. It passed me by. Rock and roll!! Happy new year!

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    1. I completely understand that, SB. I'm glad I'm not alone in finding it all a bit overblown! It carries a poignancy with it, I think. Yeah, best to play the whole thing down!

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  3. I made it to midnight for the first time in 3 or 4 New Years, but alas Mrs S crashed with just 20 mins remaining!

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    1. Ah, well done! But you didn't give Mrs S a nudge at the ten-second countdown for a sleepy rendition of Auld Lang Syne? I'm sure she'd have thanked you ;-)

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  4. Had the best New Year's Eve in a while.

    My Daddy's been up visiting since Christmas...there was a ball game on but, around 10:00, Martha turned in. As soon as the game was over...I stretched, yawned and told Daddy I was beat.

    Took a couple of beers back in the bedroom and we waited for the ball to drop. Around 11:30 Martha decided she couldn't make it. "There's no pay off in watching the clock turn over." I was having none of that...so, I spent the next 20 minutes walking around the room finishing off her beer, explaining precisely, point by point, why Britney Spears was so much better than Madonna. It worked...she made it. Barely.

    Happy New Year.

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    1. My admiration for Martha continues to grow, e.f... Happy New Year to you both!

      I'm now quite curious to know your point by point reasoning for why Britney is so much better than Madonna. On second thoughts, though, maybe not *that* curious ;-)

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