I had been sick with the flu on New Year’s Eve, so I didn’t celebrate. In fact, it wasn’t until Friday 11th Jan that I was feeling well again. Despite not feeling in the mood for it, my housemates threw a party – New Year’s take two, they said.
Laughing, I joined in with the singing and dancing. I drink not too much and didn’t snack either. Someone put a recording of London celebrating New Year on the TV. We couldn’t down midnight and welcomed 2019 in.
Then we crowed in the small garden and let off some fireworks. The colours were so bright against the dark, foggy sky. The whizzing and bangs so loud as no one else was celebrating.
Chilled by the coming frost, we warmed inside with more dancing and hot corn beef hash. People started leaving then, a few helping to tidy before doing so. I was in bed before the last guests left, tried out by everything.
Even though my new year hadn’t gotten off to the best of starts, I wanted to make the second take really did.