It's funny now that I'm back at work, the 10-day break for the holidays seems like only 10 minutes. All those wonderful hours - most of which were spent at home where I got so lazy that even making a phone call was sometimes a chore - have suddenly been condensed, and it seems to have gone all in a flash.
The end of 2007 and the beginning of 2008 couldn't have been better. I had friends visiting for the weekend, so we had made plans to have dinner at home first (sausages and lentils, which according to the Italians bring good luck) and then go out after midnight when things get a bit calmer out on the streets. We were very organised and sorted tickets to our night of choice well in advance, so there was no last-minute "whatdo- we-do-now?" kind of panics which always help ruin my New Year's Eve.
Our night of choice was a hop, skip and jump away (well, about a 15-minute walk) from my house, so even if we didn't manage to get a taxi there, (a case of wishful thinking if there ever was one) we got there very easily by tube - which was free for the night (wow, thanks London Underground. That's what we get back for all the money we pay during the year). Following a list of possibilities that were going to be either too busy, or too far away, or too something or other, we finally decided to celebrate at a club I had been wanting to go to for ages, but never got to: Boom Box in Hoxton Square. It's been going on for about two or three years, and has been celebrated as the fashion circle's favourite night out, but I never actually made it - mostly because of its reputation. Since New Year's Eve was going to be the last one ever (the organisers have rightly decided to pull the plug on it just as it had gone past its peak) I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to at least experience it once. And what a good time was had (although I can't say by all, because two of the party of six disappeared within minutes of arriving and the other two kept threatening to go to another event just up the road). It felt like being back in the 1980s when people actually had fun on a night out: girls - and some boys - in big dresses, actual conversations going on, and - a thrill for me - not one bare-chested, sweaty man - gay or straight - in sight. OK, so maybe the music was not the most sophisticated I've ever heard, but even though, what the place lacked aurally, it surely made up for visually.
I'm kind of sad I'd not been before - though I suppose, if I had I would have gone often, and gotten used to it, then I wouldn't have enjoyed it that much. As it was, I felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland. But that all seems far away now. As I recover from the trauma of a full day at the office after such a long break, I'm looking at my calendar for dates to celebrate. The only thing that sticks out is my birthday next week, but with it being 41, I've decided I'm not going to bother this year - it's a bit of a non event. Looks like January is going to be a bit of a long month!
The end of 2007 and the beginning of 2008 couldn't have been better. I had friends visiting for the weekend, so we had made plans to have dinner at home first (sausages and lentils, which according to the Italians bring good luck) and then go out after midnight when things get a bit calmer out on the streets. We were very organised and sorted tickets to our night of choice well in advance, so there was no last-minute "whatdo- we-do-now?" kind of panics which always help ruin my New Year's Eve.
Our night of choice was a hop, skip and jump away (well, about a 15-minute walk) from my house, so even if we didn't manage to get a taxi there, (a case of wishful thinking if there ever was one) we got there very easily by tube - which was free for the night (wow, thanks London Underground. That's what we get back for all the money we pay during the year). Following a list of possibilities that were going to be either too busy, or too far away, or too something or other, we finally decided to celebrate at a club I had been wanting to go to for ages, but never got to: Boom Box in Hoxton Square. It's been going on for about two or three years, and has been celebrated as the fashion circle's favourite night out, but I never actually made it - mostly because of its reputation. Since New Year's Eve was going to be the last one ever (the organisers have rightly decided to pull the plug on it just as it had gone past its peak) I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to at least experience it once. And what a good time was had (although I can't say by all, because two of the party of six disappeared within minutes of arriving and the other two kept threatening to go to another event just up the road). It felt like being back in the 1980s when people actually had fun on a night out: girls - and some boys - in big dresses, actual conversations going on, and - a thrill for me - not one bare-chested, sweaty man - gay or straight - in sight. OK, so maybe the music was not the most sophisticated I've ever heard, but even though, what the place lacked aurally, it surely made up for visually.
I'm kind of sad I'd not been before - though I suppose, if I had I would have gone often, and gotten used to it, then I wouldn't have enjoyed it that much. As it was, I felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland. But that all seems far away now. As I recover from the trauma of a full day at the office after such a long break, I'm looking at my calendar for dates to celebrate. The only thing that sticks out is my birthday next week, but with it being 41, I've decided I'm not going to bother this year - it's a bit of a non event. Looks like January is going to be a bit of a long month!