The title of this blog post, my very first, paints the picture of a grumpy old woman – at the grand old age of 23. Now don’t get me wrong I’m not a party-hater. On an average Saturday night you’ll find me in a bar or pub, and probably pulling some shameful dance moves later on. It’s the 31st of December I can’t stand.
If I’m totally honest with you it partially stems from childhood (don’t worry this isn’t becoming Freudian). My dear old dad’s birthday is the 1st of January, which is a bit of a party pooper. He isn’t impressed when everyone turns up in the late afternoon clutching their heads in pain and rummaging in the drawer for paracetamol whilst he opens his presents that were purchased in the Boxing Day sales (sorry Dad!). For the entirety of my childhood New Year’s Eve consisted of sitting on the sofa until Big Ben chimed and then heading up to bed to be fresh for the 1st of January.
Once I turned 18 I did get sucked in to the world of New Year’s Eve – house parties, a trip to the Warehouse Project and evenings sat in the living room getting very drunk on red wine. But I still didn’t get it. Why did everyone get themselves so worked up about one night of the year? Why did it matter that it was the end of one year and the beginning of the next? At sunset a day ends that we will never get to live again, so what was the big deal? No matter how many people I asked no one could give me satisfactory answers.
“It’s fun, a nice night to get everyone together”
“It’s the memories and the nostalgia of the year that’s gone, and the excitement of the one approaching”
But why do these things need to happen? I’m a nostalgic kind of person but the idea of restricting this to one night focused on, let’s face it, getting sloshed just confuses me. Sure, a bottle of red around a campfire getting deep in conversation about our lives so far I could understand. But standing on a sticky club floor, bumping in to strangers and spending a small fortune on a taxi floor isn’t a nostalgic or beautiful way to bring in a new year.
This year I’ll be sticking to a couple of housemates, a bottle of red wine, some baked cheese and chats about the fantastic, awful and sad parts of our 2016. There will be no talk of New Year’s resolutions, no singing of Auld Lang Syne and certainly no discussion about 2017 being the best year yet. Instead let’s focus on our love for each other, an appreciation of life and learning to appreciate every passing day, not just once a year.