I’m sure there’s many a post ranting about the disappointment of a night that is new years eve. And whilst it generally is always a let down, I’m not going to sit here and tell you what not to do. I’m just going to give one piece of advice: don’t get as ridiculously drunk as I did this new years evening slash new years morning. For the majority of my life new years has consisted of having a few people round with the fam playing board games, watching the fireworks on TV and singing auld lang syne. This year I decided this wasn’t good enough for me so tagged along with some friends and attended a couple of house parties to see in the new year. Had I gone along to these parties and been civilised and respectable I’m sure it would have been a wondrous evening but as it is I got stupendously drunk.
This was most certainly due to the hired bartender at the first bash which overexcited us to the point that we were never without a drink in our hand (accompanied by a stripy straw). And when the vodka ran out there was nothing to fear because plentiful martinis and rums were available… Did I mention that mixing a wide variety of drinks is NOT such a good idea? Once the drunkenness had kicked in it led us to start requesting highly inappropriate songs for a family party such as Azealia’s “212” and creating a mini dancefloor. The clock striked midnight and we merrily kissed everyone at the party in celebration, but the drinks did not stop flowing. We then made our way to the second party where we poured generous servings of our own lethal vodka squash mix, having the ultimate effect of prolonged memory loss. All I remember is a few random conversations, calling people from the bathroom, and a long cold walk to the station at 4am.
As ridiculous as the night was considering our level of alcohol intake, I did have a pretty good time and at the very least saw in the new year in an eventful manner. The nightmare came the following day – having gone to sleep at half 5, after an over-indulgent drunk feast of noodles, chickpea curry and wedges, I was feeling distinctly worse for wear. However the family forced me to get up (after about 10 wake up calls and then me going back to bed with a facewipe on my forehead as the only cool thing I could find to soothe my banging headache) for our 12.30 Cafe Rouge luncheon appointment. Somehow I dragged myself there, took one look at the menu, and decided there was no way I could add any form of meal to my unhappy stomach. But what could we do? We were settled at our table with drinks ordered and the father had already had a pleasant chat with our waiter, as he does. However the family decided that my situation was so dire we should leave the restaurant and come back once I had recovered. That’s right. We stood up, waved away our unwanted drinks, and walked out of the restaurant with most likely the whole eating population staring and pitying my ridiculous self.
As soon as I was back home the sweats were on and I was fast asleep in my bed in an effort to get rid of the hangover from hell once and for all. I awakened at half 3 to find the Sound of Music on in the living room and convinced myself I felt well enough for tea; made tea for everyone then realised tea was definitely not going to help me so crawled back into the pit of misery that was my bed. Finally at quarter past 5 it was time for Cafe Rouge take 2. I can’t say I was on top form but I at least managed to put some clothes and makeup on and we all had a pleasant meal, even if I did start feeling slightly dodgy halfway through my Beef Bourguignon. This was a small price to pay compared to how I would have felt if I had eaten or drunk anything at 12.30. Let’s just say I can’t imagine it would have been a pretty sight or an enjoyable experience for anyone involved.
The most annoying thing about my hungover state was the knowledge that this was how I was kicking off 2014 – an absolute mess dying in bed unable to finish off an apple tart. I don’t think the English January weather added to my mood particularly, but in general I was rather disappointed in myself which wasn’t a fantastic premonition for the rest of the year. The moral of the story in my eyes is this: new years eve should be spent with those you care about and celebrated in a way that makes you look forward to the year ahead. Not in a way that makes you want to put your head in the toilet. You can get ridiculously drunk any other night of the year (although hopefully not too many as I’d quite like to remember the majority of 2014); new years is one night that should be enjoyed and remembered for happiness with friends not emotional drunken messes. Now that I’ve got over the hangover 2013 left me, I’m thoroughly looking forward to this year and highly anticipating the excitement and changes it will bring. I only wish I could have had this attitude from the word go!