Why I actually and truly hate New Year’s Eve

Dear readers ( if there are  any, I might be talking to myself, but no harm done if so).

Why do I hate New Year’s Eve, I hear you say?

Well, first off there’s all that ‘expectation of jollity’ and ‘enforced joie de vivre’ and the merriment mafia all hard at work, constantly exhorting you to be happy and positive and ‘why aren’t you doing anything?’ and making you feel like a bluddy failure if you are not carousing, Auld Lang Syne-ing and the hub of a weird CROWD of similarly over smiling almost manic over alcohol-ed jollifiers.

Second: if you want to just go to bed as normal and treat *every day* as the first year of a New Year instead, you’re wakened up by fireworks and carousing.

So instead of desperately trying to find a place to go and be with some folk to socialise with; of inviting myself somewhere and being a bit cringey all night; or inviting folks to my own house ( which isn’t really on, as it’s a wee sentry box of a cottage) I decided to have a bonfire in my front garden.

I thought: I’d write a few words on paper of things I wanted to go up in smoke from this past year! And a few wishes of events I would like to come to pass.

So we have a bonfire and we have a little sing to bid farewell to the past year and welcome in the New.


A new tradition is born.

Many happy new beginnings to my readers.


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