Explosions in the sky.

Okay, a merry new year is approaching. As long as I don’t look through my blog or journal I struggle remember what happened, and what did not. Thinking about New Years though made me realise it tends to be a bit of a flop for me. Luckily my memory isn’t good enough for it to disturb me for the rest of the year.

It took me about ten minutes to remember that I spent New Year’s Eve, last year, cleaning up a house that had got broken into, having a toast around midnight with vodka and watching salmon fishing in Yemen as a way to salute 2013, before falling asleep on a mattress on someone else’s floor. Two years ago I fell asleep on a sofa in Åre whilst the others went out. Skiing. Another year I was locked out (my mum went to Tenerife with my keys – smart move from a teenage mother, and spent 12’o clock cursing the world on someone else’s party. I must say I’m not too hyped up about New Years, but I’m still hoping that one year out there will beat 2000 and our family millennium party, that’s so far on on place 1 on my list.

That said, we’re off to Sweden disgustingly early on the first of January, so this new year will begin somewhere reasonable close to Luton airport, but hopefully not in it.


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