Jolly Thoughts on New Year's Eve
It's taken me a while to work it out, because I'm not always very quick to work things out when they concern me, but I have to tell you that New Year's Eve and I are not good friends.
I've tried going to parties, which was never going to work because I don't like parties at the best of times and certainly not on New Year's Eve, (or, to give it its full title, Oh My Goodness Let's Think About All The Loved Ones Who Have Died and All The Terrible Things That Have Happened This Year Night.) I've tried staying at home and pretending it's not happening. Of recent years, I've done a kind of hybrid thing where I stay at home and pretend it's not happening until about ten to midnight. Then it's over to my mother's house and we have to sing Auld Lang Syne and watch Jools Holland, or That Bloody Awful Jools Holland Plays Music That I Hate, to give the programme its full title.
In general, I'm a Cup Half Full kind of person and in general my attitude to any feelings of melancholy is to kick myself rather hard, pull myself together and move on.
But the more people drink, and be merry, and let off fireworks, and sing Auld Lang Sodding Syne - to give the song its full title - the more quiet and miserable I get. And then I feel bad for being quiet and miserable and then I feel worse. And sometimes people ask what's wrong with me and I hate that because all I can say is that I don't know, really.
But all would be well - or at least better - if my mother could do what she'd love to do most, and that's to go to a New Year's Eve party, get a bit tipsy, flirt a lot and dance all night. Which, I must point out, is my idea of hell. If I were her, I'd be throwing a party. In fact, when she was my age, she used to do just that - this house was well-known for such things. But now she's eighty-five, and eighty-five-year-olds don't tend to get invited to other people's parties, and her Unsociable Daughter and Even More Unsociable Son-in-Law never have them. And her Rather More Sociable Son and Rather More Sociable Daughter-in-Law live in Amsterdam.
So why the hell can't I be cheerful, if only for my mother's sake, and jolly myself out of it? Yes, since you ask, it's been a very hard year in some ways - but a very good one in others. I suspect my New Year's Eve melancholy is more to do with me than to do with actual events in my life - - and as for the terrible events in the world - well, there are always plenty of those and other people manage to put them to one side so why can't I?
I think it's the emotional expectation that I don't like. I don't like any big social event, in general, that's got clouds of Having a Good Time around it, and the bigger the Having a Good Time expectation is, the worse that I get. Yes, yes I know, self-pitying whinger, why don't I just count my blessings?
And I have many, many blessings to count, of course. I know that: please don't think I don't. Grateful thanks to those who have helped me to get through the worst bits of this year, and also to enjoy the best bits - you know who you are, or you jolly well should do. But tonight I shall be at home, finishing off the one glassful of Baileys that's left in the bottle. I have invited my mother over to our house just before midnight and I'll try to put on some semblance of good cheer.
But if Jools Holland dares to come on my telly I shall pull all his wires out.
I've tried going to parties, which was never going to work because I don't like parties at the best of times and certainly not on New Year's Eve, (or, to give it its full title, Oh My Goodness Let's Think About All The Loved Ones Who Have Died and All The Terrible Things That Have Happened This Year Night.) I've tried staying at home and pretending it's not happening. Of recent years, I've done a kind of hybrid thing where I stay at home and pretend it's not happening until about ten to midnight. Then it's over to my mother's house and we have to sing Auld Lang Syne and watch Jools Holland, or That Bloody Awful Jools Holland Plays Music That I Hate, to give the programme its full title.
In general, I'm a Cup Half Full kind of person and in general my attitude to any feelings of melancholy is to kick myself rather hard, pull myself together and move on.
But the more people drink, and be merry, and let off fireworks, and sing Auld Lang Sodding Syne - to give the song its full title - the more quiet and miserable I get. And then I feel bad for being quiet and miserable and then I feel worse. And sometimes people ask what's wrong with me and I hate that because all I can say is that I don't know, really.
But all would be well - or at least better - if my mother could do what she'd love to do most, and that's to go to a New Year's Eve party, get a bit tipsy, flirt a lot and dance all night. Which, I must point out, is my idea of hell. If I were her, I'd be throwing a party. In fact, when she was my age, she used to do just that - this house was well-known for such things. But now she's eighty-five, and eighty-five-year-olds don't tend to get invited to other people's parties, and her Unsociable Daughter and Even More Unsociable Son-in-Law never have them. And her Rather More Sociable Son and Rather More Sociable Daughter-in-Law live in Amsterdam.
So why the hell can't I be cheerful, if only for my mother's sake, and jolly myself out of it? Yes, since you ask, it's been a very hard year in some ways - but a very good one in others. I suspect my New Year's Eve melancholy is more to do with me than to do with actual events in my life - - and as for the terrible events in the world - well, there are always plenty of those and other people manage to put them to one side so why can't I?
I think it's the emotional expectation that I don't like. I don't like any big social event, in general, that's got clouds of Having a Good Time around it, and the bigger the Having a Good Time expectation is, the worse that I get. Yes, yes I know, self-pitying whinger, why don't I just count my blessings?
And I have many, many blessings to count, of course. I know that: please don't think I don't. Grateful thanks to those who have helped me to get through the worst bits of this year, and also to enjoy the best bits - you know who you are, or you jolly well should do. But tonight I shall be at home, finishing off the one glassful of Baileys that's left in the bottle. I have invited my mother over to our house just before midnight and I'll try to put on some semblance of good cheer.
But if Jools Holland dares to come on my telly I shall pull all his wires out.
posted by Daphne at 5:12 pm
5 Comments:
I know just how you feel cos I feel the same. I think its partly the expectation of a new year knowing that not much will improve. Last year we were both poorly and tucke dup in bed!
We are listening to radio 3 until 10pm when we are going to watch Geronimo which doesn't finish until after 12 so then I can miss it all. Though I expect the double glazing will still let in the sound of fire works.
I have done Jools Holland in thepast but I don't like him and my daughter who worked on the uni tech crew setting up for bands said he is the most ignorant man she has had to set up for.
my mum is a bit younger than yours but i expect she will be tucked up in bed. When we were little she used to tell us how as a 3 year old she was dressed up in a silver and cotton wool outfit to be the "new year" in her village.
Enjoy your glass of Baileys and I hope 2010 is a good year xx
Keith and I feel exactly the same too. We may still be up or we may be in bed by midnight but Happy New Year to you and your family, Daphne with lots of good times ahead, hopefully.
It has been quite a year, I agree. I'd be partying with your mum, given a party to go to, but here I sit at home, having just cleaned the kitchen.
Whether you celebrate or not, I still wish you a Happy new Year.
Val
I'm sitting on my own (my wifes watching tv) And I'm quite happy. Have a good year.
Mrs. RWP and I stayed at home dog-sitting (wherein one does not sit on dogs but merely watches them for their owners, our unexpectedly visiting from Florida son and daughter-in-law, whilst said owners partied with their friends). We kissed (Mrs. RWP and I, not the dogs) at midnight, which kiss was promptly followed by both dogs barking furiously for long periods when fireworks went off in various places around the neighborhood. Our best New Year's Eve was in 1976 when our children were small and we woke them at 11:45 pm and let them march around the neighborhood in their pajamas at midnight, banging on pots and pans with wooden spoons. Great fun for them, but I had to buy the missus a whole new set of pots and pans as we did not foresee that they would be rendered useless for cooking in the process.
Once again you have awakened old memories in me. I must learn to blog about them on my own blog instead of in someone else's comments section.
I hope you, Stephen, Olli, Gareth, your mum, and whoever else you would like to include have a wonderfully warm, prosperous, healthy, and memorable 2010.
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