The celebration, the champagne, everyone is dressed up waiting for that moment. The moment when it is believed you are allowed a clean slate, to start something new, to become a better person. That moment when you know everything will change. And before you know, it the fireworks rocket to the sky, bursting with colour and excitement and all with the hope that this year won't be as shitty as last year.
To be quite honest, I hate New Years Eve.
Not the most optimitistic of ways to begin, but I feel it should be said. Many people love it, go out clubbing, generally go crazy for what I think is the biggest anti-climax on this earth (apart from birthdays but I'll get onto that at a later date). I can't be the only person who thinks it's the most overrated celebration since World Bicycle Day (not sure if that's actually a thing, however if it is, it should be reconsidered).
Yes, I understand it's a new year, and that you can be filled with the anticipation of a better future for yourself, your family and the world.
When I wake up on January 1st, I feel no different. I don't wake up with a smile on my face and get ready and dressed with the help of my magical talking animal friends (cue music from Enchanted) and as far as I'm aware I still put my trousers on the right way round.
'But you must have felt some change?' I hear you ask. Well if you must press me, I shall answer thus: the only changes that I have encountered are that my kettle has started whistling the theme song to Blazing Saddles and my paintings have started giving me advice on how best to strategically shave my armpits. But that happens to everyone right? Right? Anyone there? Ahem... lets move on...