New Years Eve, 2011. I’m sitting at home, on my own (except of course Owen is asleep upstairs 
). I am watching I don’t know what rubbish on TV. There is ’100 Most Annoying People Ever’, ’1o0 UK’s favourite Beegees Songs’, ’100 Biggest Most Pointless Scenes from Films that went Straight to Video Ever’… well okay that one I made up. But it’s scheduled for next year’s New Year’s Eve, I believe.
I never watch TV, but I admit to having watched a bit more than usual over the last week or so. I did originally have plans to watch a DVD but the DVD player has broken down, in solidarity with the boiler and the washing machine. Oh, and the doorbell.
I have drunk far too much wine, and eaten a lot of peanuts, whilst watching the completely dreadful Pirates of the Caribbean 3: At World’s End. I am, however, happy(ish), with this state of affairs. I didn’t want to go out. I’m not in a particularly celebratory mood, surprisingly. I’m tired, and relieved in a way that I am forced to stay in by the fact that mum has a party to go to. I’m happy, too, that she has gone out to a party. Last year she stayed in while I went out and drank far too much. And she had to cancel lots of things before Christmas because first Owen got ill so couldn’t go to nursery, and then of course I was going up to visit dad in hospital quite a bit. So at least she’ll have a good old knees up tonight!
Oh dear, the fireworks have started already. Someone’s clock must be a bit wrong, it’s only 10.30.
