New Year’s Eve we lit a bonfire on the headland at the place where the winds from the sea meet theOn  winds from the stars. We danced with flying hair and pounding hearts amidst the glittering sparks, drank deeply to our dear lost friends and shouted our hopes and wishes for the New Year into the orchestra of the crashing waves. 

Oh, no, we didn’t, I’m wrong there. Sorry.

We were in bed by ten.

I do remember a time when New Year's Eve was the highlight of our social calendar. Christmas for the children, NYE for the adults. In the earlier years, we usually spent it in the home of some Scottish friends, who really pushed the boat out, first-footer and all. Then later, we would host a dinner party for a group of good friends. It usually went on all night. The last time we celebrated NYE with any sort of style and degree of  enthusiasm must have been  seven or eight years ago now. 

Does it make us feel uncomfortable that the years are flying past too fast? Do we have insufficient energy and optimism? Are there too few dear friends left with whom to celebrate? Does the midnight tolling of Big Ben remind us too much of good times that are passed? Are we too fearful of tomorrow?  Who knows!

We feel quite happy really. We just prefer an early night.