I actually lived life in the fast lane and remained downstairs after the bells went on Hogmanay, watching a film. My youngest son rolled in unusually early at 1.40am. He was totally rubbered and looked like he was walking with a third leg, so I thought it best to escort him to bed. Not having tucked him in for nigh on 10 years, I found it touching that he wanted read a story and started reciting bits of his favourite book 'Don't Eat The Teacher' that he bought at his very first book club at school aged five.
Our street was remarkably quiet once the fireworks were over and I was ever so thankful no open windows pounded out Runrig, Sydney Devine or Heedrum Hodrum stuff! I slept for a very nice 10 hours, which ended with my face being licked and a cold nose under the covers from Hetfield, my older son's mad little rescue doggie, who seems to be a mix of Jack Russell and Chihuahua, with the personality of a tyrannosaurus rex. We've never had a four-legged first foot before, so let's just see how the year pans out. During the visit, I took him for a huge walk and left my son's and hubby to their yuletide blokes' time and the TV darts' final. 
As with Christmas day, I gave thought to our local water birds and took a huge bag of bakery and snack leftovers to their little pond for a feeding, only I rather innocently instigated a cracking swan fight just as I was throwing the food in. A grown cygnet and his mum/dad were beaking and wing-flailing the shit out of each other which resulted in the other swans, ducks and coots getting the best of the food while the dispute went on. Hetfield by this point was going nuts at the commotion and managed to get stuck in the reeds as his runner lead took off full length. So there I was screaming at a tiny dog, twisting and yanking at his lead in fear of him drowning or eaten as a few surrounding houses had people at their windows wondering what the Hell was going on! So much for my quiet escape to the pond park! And we got a soaking on the way home.Just as I was contemplating an early book and bed night, PrettyBoy's partner Carlene turned up, saying there was a fight at her parent's house over a steak pie, so she decided to leave them to it and stay over here!
On return from my second doggie walk - that near saw a 'ikkle mouse in the jaws of death - I was kinda relieved that the huge bottle of sparkling cherry-wine that PeaPod bought me in an attempt to get me 'mortal' had been near emptied. There's nothing worse trying to force things down through politeness (ain't that right, hubby?) The night led into escapades of doggie dancing, dart and balloon challenges, Amy Winehouse impersonations, ballpoint pen tattoos, drunken psychic readings (that were quite spooky at times) and chatting one-to-one up until 4am, where I found out that Carlene survives on only 3 to 4 hours sleep at a time!I'm glad to see the old year out and I'm not too convinced the new one will be any better......the first letter I received today was a medical reminder that my bowel cancer kit will be winging it's way to me soon!!
I've survived the festivites by indulging in the Sky Arts channels with Andre Rieu,classic ballet performances and back to back episodes of (my guilty pleasure) Judge Judy. My resolutions are easy enough. Just keep taking the tablets and deep breaths.......it's over now, honey!
********************************************************* *ps......I'm catching up with my bloglist alphabetically, for a change.......*
