New Year’s Eve is always a damp squib so when you wake up hungover & skint you’ll get no sympathy from me
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“HAPPY New Year”, people. Or, the way I see it: just “New Year”. Yes, I’m not only a New Year’s Eve bah humbug type, as I have been for the past 57 years. It’s just that the prospect of a new year does nothing for me. Not only are you supposed to have at least five New Year’s resolutions up your sleeve, but the very idea that at one minute past midnight your life is going to miraculously take a happier and more prosperous turn turns me right off.
I can’t recall the last time I stayed up until midnight on NYE, paid for a below-average but over-priced meal at a restaurant, or attended some kind of party that came with greater expectations than Charles Dickens could have dreamt of but — without fail — always ended as a damp squib.
So apologies if I have little empathy for your banging hangover and empty wallet this morning, while this smug, sober Swede went to bed before 9pm. So, here we are. A new year, a new you. Supposedly. Except you are still the exact same person you were a few hours ago back in 2024.
Millions of you will resolve to make changes in your life — as if January 1 is the only chance you have to do it. Others will join the band of smug, dreary Dry January fanatics and give up the booze for 31 days — not hard when the first day is likely to include one of the worst hangovers you’ll ever have.
Many will give up smoking or take up some kind of random fitness routine which will be over by the time the cruel elbow of time nudges February. It’s hard to feel hopeful when the very world itself is going to hell in a handcart with new and never-ending wars, an ongoing cost-of-living crisis, and death and destruction all around.