Jan 1st

The new year arrived with as quiet a whimper as I can recall. The cliched chimes of Big Ben drowned out by the brainless racket of a pub full of Asboids. The "Dolphin" had been a last minute decision. Heather had been throwing up intermittently for much of the day and consequently was judged to be in no fit state for the rush of London. 3 hours by the side of the river waiting for 10 minutes of fireworks in an inescapable press of humanity didn’t seem like the sensible thing. Emma had set her heart on the capital, mind, and when the Dolphin plan was revealed she settled in for a sulk. Reaching deep for inspiration I mentioned that the Dolphin was bribing customers with "Free Bubbly at Midnight". It was a masterstroke. She was instantly won over to the plan.
We went for a curry. The place was busy and buzzing, but as compared with the year before there was no Ali and no Mushy. The latter’s presence particularly always made sure the evening had a little extra. We waited forever for the food, trying to string out the pappadums for as long as possible. This was made harder by the fact that they weren’t the freshest. What is it with Indian restaurants. Why don’t they just bin the stale ones? How many customers do they loose because they dish up an hors d'oeuvre that costs them about 2p to produce and they don't bother to check whether they've the crispiness of a bath flannel? Or don’t they really know they've gone off? More than likely they don’t, because we are so bloody supine and unomplaining we just put up with it. The kids moan (quie rightly) and I tell em to shut up. Stupid.
So it wasn’t the greatest of curries, and now it was 10:30 and the novel idea of an evening of karaoke, which hadn’t seemed that appealing when we first drove past th bloody pub at 4:30, now stretched ahead into a dire and unrelenting infinity. My best hopes had been of the kids plucking up courage to wail along with their favourite melodies, and maybe me consuming enough ale to uncaringly make a tit of myelf a bit later on. As soon as we got through the door I realised hows sadly we’d misjudged the potential.
If anyone in the assembled throng wasn’t actually the subject of an asbo, then their new years’ resolutions must have included rectifying that sorry oversight in the shortest order. A few hooded drunks hovered around the karaokemeister, occasionally lurching to the microphone to bawl out their bit. Whereas a half decent karoake will generally engage a large part of a pub’s population, this lot’s antics succeeded only in clearing the bulk of the boozer’s clientelle to the far end.
I don’t like New Years Eve much. It all seems an anti climax after Christmas, seems like squeezing the last drops from a lemon. I don’t get dewy eyed over the passing of the year. The karaoke racket is muted, Big Ben bongs beneath the Asbo racket and a plasma screen shows the fabulous fireworks display from London. Should have done that.
We’ve been playing pool with the kids and I have to confess that it was fun laughing at our mutual incompetence, with the occasional moment of gasped astonishment as someone pulls a corker out of the locker.
We scuttle out of the pub soon after midnight. In the excitement of the pool match we missed our glass of cheap "bubbly". What a shit nickname for the noble drink. Sure it would have been Asti at worst and Cava at best!
Back at home it’s a Python night on the telly. "The making of life of Brian" has us all chuckling, and then we sit through half of Meaning of Life. It’s still a bad film, but it does improve with age, and we all roll on the floor for Mr Creosote. Bed about three and wake up with a mild headache. Get up about 12 and catch the first daylight ritual of the New Year, the Vienna concert. Not in the mood for it... I am always a bit ambivalent about it, but this year I hardly lift my head from the laptop.
The others all go out for "drinks! And don’t return till 5. I waste another day of my life hunched over the laptop, once again having failed to get my life moving.
We are all stuffed after Xmas so no food gets cooked. My fucking weight has ballooned to 14.1. After all the effort!! Got to do something bout that! Don't today!
We play a game of disfunctional Cluedo, I have Mustard and the Spanner sussed out in no time but can’t get to the dining room before Sophie. Shit!
Saw a trailer for the World Darts... That cheered me up. Wonder how much of that bollocks I’ll get to see this year? Oh well the world’s still turnin!