New Year

Arrived back in London on Saturday evening to be met by a very tired M. He had been partying for pretty much 72 hours straight (give or take the hours spent at work). We hurried round Waitrose and retreated to our house and our new set of (recycled) arm chairs. Either side of a small table we sat, watching television and eating spaghetti bolognese.

New Year started with an enormous roast dinner with B and C at lunchtime. M cooked beef, roasted vegetables and potatoes roasted in goose fat. It was so rich that there was no need for any pudding, which was just as well, since I hadn't made any. We drank champagne and saved the cheese course for much later. Another friend arrived later but unfortunately our other two guests called in sick with food poisoning. And so we spent the evening talking and drinking, and then at just before midnight, we climbed Primrose Hill to watch the beginning of 2007 marked with fireworks all across the London skyline. It was cold and rather muddy, and we could barely reach three quarters of the way up the hill because of all the people, murky silhouettes and excited chatter. And at the stike of midnight, no-one knew exactly when where we were, but they knew, down by the London Eye, fireworks began to explode and it looked rather like the blitz must have done, but with rather less noise, destruction and loss of life. And we retreated, back to the house, when our fellow viewers started to let off fireworks of their own.

New Years Day was a much quieter affair (I wonder how many people have written that?). Thankfully, the BBC had saved some much better television for this glorious of hungover days and we watched films and a surprisingly good version of the Wind in the Willows, drinking leftover ginger beer and the remains of the cheese from the day before.