Well 2006 arrived in London in a ten minute bang flash wallop of fireworks over the Thames in and around the London Eye...and I watched the whole sorry thing sprawled out on my bed in my tatty old green dressing gown - didn't realise just how tatty it was until post-Xmas and so missed out on the chance of a new one, because dressing gowns just aren't the kind of thing I would buy for myself - and I'm sniffing vapour rub from a ratty tissue and wondering what happened to the vibrant young thing who once danced the night away with strangers in a crowded nightclub ...
Where we were frisked by butch wo-men in the doorway only to find that once inside the music threatened to deafen us and they turned the heat up to force us to by drinks at over-inflated prices and there wasn't room enough to really dance so we were forced to sway with the crowd. Heaven help the poor fool with no sense of rhythm who could so easily be trampled under foot... those were the days...Of short skirts and high heels and lost youth.
And then at a few minutes past twelve when I am starting to feel sorry for myself, my husband emerges from the shower wrapped in a towel and asks "is it nearly time?"
His skin is slightly pinkish brown and he smells of soap and baby lotion and the man I love is smiling and suddenly all is right with my world and 2006 looks like a wealth of possibilities stretched before us.
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