Napthalia Asked: "Maybe it's a sign that I'm getting old - or a reflection of these austere times, but I'm opting for a night in this New Year’s Eve. How about you?"
I find New Years Eve celebrations a time when I can hardly contain my indifference. The time for eating, drinking and reflecting on the past year. New year, always remind me of a single pint of London beer, warm and seems to last forever. One benefit of staying in for those who are mean or impoverished is saving money. Which, I must admit, is a great advantage if you happen to have a shroud prepared with pockets in it.
Personally I have no desire to be the richest person in the graveyard. I actually have a long held ambition to be a man who owes the Scrooge bankers a huge amount of money when I eventually give up this mortal toil. Today's banking Scrooges are the sons of bankers who as children attended boarding school and remember being the only boy left at the school during the holidays. Which goes some way of explaining their attitude towards our money. The shrewd and cold-hearted money launderers are all graduates with a first class honours degree in creative financial misery.
But I digress, after an expansive Christmas spent gargling with beer, wine and spirits when visiting the homes of our neighbours. A time of much merriment and munching of pork pies, mince pies and fruit cake. I had a wonderful time I could not help adding up the cost of each decoration and each pastry, meat pie or drink of grog that I consumed. This also allows me to save money by not being charged over the odds for a night at the working man's club. Which is never as good as we expect anyway.
I do however, love new years eve at the club. With the annual surprise of the committee chairman's wife winning the jackpot bingo once again. Then paying through the nose for cheap sherry and beer. The highlight of the evening being a turn singing the best of Bing Crosby. This is them followed, by me walking through the inevitable cold and rain while trying to track down a James Dyson wheelbarrow to get the wife home.
I am sure you will have had few New Year’s Eve nights out to rival this for entertainment.
Regards.
Uncle Mort.
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