So it’s New Year’s Eve again - my fifth since moving to New York. I’ve spent the recent ones staying as far away from Times Square as possible, but even before I moved here I wasn’t really one for New Year’s parties. It’s always seemed like such a non-holiday to me; I think I tend to get all my it’s-another-year-already reflection and nostalgia out of the way in September and October, perhaps because that’s when the academic year starts. When I was younger I tended to stay in with a couple of friends and a couple of movies and order Chinese. We’d watch the ball drop on TV usually, but that was about it. Nothing much has changed now that I live here - last year I stayed in with Chris and a couple of movies and ordered Chinese. We watched the ball drop on TV. (And played an awful lot of Vice City.) That’s pretty much the ideal, as far as I’m concerned. No crowds, no cold, a couple of movies, and optional booze.

The one really exciting thing about the approach of January, of course, is that it means my birthday arrives in a mere three weeks. I hope you’re all prepared.