Here it comes again, Covid or no Covid, the countdown clock to another year. Let joy to all men ring out – and let stress abound for all women, because, frankly, it is never easy. New Year’s Eve is a minefield without a guide so, inevitably, we all leave our day-to-day selves behind and become one of the great New Year’s Eve stereotypes. Read on to see which you are.
It’s hard not to, isn’t it, at those family parties. Your brother’s annoying girlfriend is there with her absolute conviction that love and light means she doesn’t need a booster and then you’ve got Uncle Steve and his views on climate change. Suddenly you find yourself wagging your finger like a Year 11 English teacher. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the excess chocolate, but you find yourself going on and on until even you can’t even remember what you were going on about. And does it do a blind bit of good? Have you changed any of their retrograde opinions? Never.
We’ve all been there – one glass of champagne leads to another and another leads to a Baileys which leads to a brandy which leads to it being 10pm on New Year’s Eve with us sprawled out on the floor. Boozing is a condition we are all heir to on New Year’s Eve – and so is the hangover that follows. Maybe make sure you make it to midnight this year.
Oh God, it’s our turn this year. We’ve got them ALL coming. Last year was a right-off so we best make this one matter. We wake up early to find the cat has somehow opened the fridge and nicked the sausages. But then, oh God, will the neighbours pop round, like they did last year? I told you we should have bought those extra vol au vents, Simon! And I mean, only two bottles of red, really? Sarah from work is coming!
The anxiety starts early. They hate the boyfriend, the boyfriend hates them. Teeth are gritted from the moment we arrive. We are an unwilling conscript into a cold war not of our making. So, what else is there to do but to ENTHUSE. We suddenly find ourselves filling every pause with LET’S PLAY CHARADES or else LET’S GET ANOTHER BOTTLE. The key is to fill every lull, to give zero space for a row until you leave on New Year’s Day. In this case, silence isn’t so much golden as lead.