The smoke has cleared, the hangovers are nearly gone and all those well-intentioned New Year resolutions are already broken and been swept away like so much soggy confetti. Personally, I gave up such things many a year ago and settled for principles that I try to live by – with varying degrees of success – throughout the whole year long. Strangely the only ones to see constant success seem to be those involving the drinking of more cocktails and having madcap adventures.
We rang the New Year in at the penthouse apartment of some dear friends who regularly have such a shindig, since their terrace affords them spectacular views of the harbour and the magnificent fireworks show. Although we were treated to quite a remarkable display on the train ride there, as there was a rather handsome muscular man of the Mediterranean persuasion who sat opposite us with his legs spread in an altogether distracting fashion. Then there was the matter of where he had chosen to rest his phone, that being snugly tucked half under his prominent and fairly sizeable crotch – I can’t remember a time when I’ve so wanted to be an inanimate object. Honestly I didn’t know where to look. Indeed, I had to make quite the conscious effort to fight nature and keep my gaze levelled anywhere other than his tantalising festive package. Needless to say by the time I reached the party I was well and truly ready for a drink.
All in all we had a lovely evening with a wonderful ambiance, abundance of alcohol, much kissing of strangers and a charming crowd – well with the exception of one particular guest. For the sake of discretion we shall just name her K. This overly ‘energetic’ lady – think 4am on the podium at any decent dance party – greeted us at the door. Normally I’m all for such forms of inebriation but the problem was that it was only 8pm and she was – and remained – several levels above anyone in the vicinity. The poor lass even thought I appeared heterosexual, which should give you all an idea to the extent of her state. I cannot confirm or deny rumours that my husband may have threatened to throw her over the balcony if she tried to inappropriately touch him again – for about the seventh time since we had arrived an hour earlier. Luckily more guests arrived and created enough of a barrier to prevent any further sexual harassment.
New Years Day itself - after a morning of slow recovery – was spent on a rooftop overlooking the city, with a delightful mix of lively chatter, sipping drinks and taking the occasional dip in the pool. It’s a demanding life but thankfully I’m man enough for the challenge.
So how were all your respective end of year celebrations? Tell me, tell me all!