Almost every New Year’s Eve these days, while everyone else in the world is cavorting around doing all the kissie, huggie bits, I will be safely tucked up in bed with a mug of camomile tea, a good book and a sleeping husband.   At midnight will be heard the warbling sounds of a drunken Auld Lang Syne ringing out over the gum trees from somewhere in the neighbourhood,  although after midnight things usually settle down to a steady cacophony of horn tooting and whistle blowing which eventually fades away.

We have even had the glorious sounds of a bagpipe from time to time on New Year’s Eve. The Edinburgh Tattoo has nothing on the sound of those bagpipes wailing away through the gum trees. Thanks Wally!

When I was once one of the young and the beautiful (weren’t we all once) I would plot from September onwards to have a boyfriend on New Year’s Eve. It was essential to celebrate the night with a boyfriend and a bunch of friends. Planning would begin at least by November for the venue and the guest list, but I would have sorted out some poor unsuspecting lovelorn lad for the evening well before that. Nothing was allowed to be left to chance.

If I were planning this today it would all be arranged in five minutes, with Face Book and Twitter connections organising the whole shebang...and a guest list totally out of control. Even a boyfriend wouldn’t be such a priority today. I love the way girlfriends can all go out together in a bunch and have a ball, with or without the company of some guys.

When our children were still living at home and before they were old enough to party, we would celebrate New Year together, eating popcorn and chocolate and watching the fireworks on television.  BIG treat.

Once they were old enough to party we sat the night out waiting for them to return safely to home and hearth.

One New Year’s Eve we were camping with family and friends at Lake Tyers, and it was a significant birthday for me that year. Friends had brought a huge tent which was used by the many kids staying in our camp during the day.  Every day the rain bucketed down, flooding our tents, soaking our bedding, no beach weather at all, and New Year’s Eve was no exception. It poured....and poured....and poured all day...and into the night.

We even drove down to the loos.

Night time and the community tent was filled with water swirling around our feet as we settled in to celebrating both my birthday and New Year’s Eve. A friend had secretly made me a cake. This elegant decorated cake lazily floated around the tent, gradually becoming soggier and more shapeless, until it finally disintegrated into a pulverised mess, a little like the rest of us by then. Someone stood at the flap of the tent dolefully singing ‘Nearer my God to Thee’, convinced we were sailing on the Titanic. Children splashed noisily and happily, making their own New Year festivities, adding to the general dampness of the night.

It was a very very long evening. We couldn’t wait for midnight to strike so we could all stagger off to bed and just sleep the rest of the night away, wet and grotty though we all were by then.

This New Year’s Eve we will share the evening with old friends, thankfully not in a tent!

The forecast is for hot and dry. Lucky campers!

 A  HAPPY NEW YEAR to all!