Ever since Jacques died, I find New Year's a very emotional time. I don't know why, perhaps it's just the 1/4 Scot in me. I just find it very hard and there are so many memories that I just don't feel like going out and celebrating. I'd honestly prefer to just hide from the world until the sunrises on New Year's Day. Perhaps it's the bull in me that makes me stubbornly refuse to face this event, I don't know. Either way, I like going to bed early. And don't you find that it's usually an anti-climax when you do go out big, anyway?
So, last year, Jake and I stayed in and we had the most fabulous evening together. I set the table, we got dressed up, I made a platter with all of Jake's favourite foods and drank non-alcoholic champagne. We lazed on the couch with a movie and chocolates and were in bed by 10:30. This year, though, my parents were home and had friends around for a braai. It made a huge change from last year and meant that I had to stay up to see the dreaded New Year in. Fortunately, they didn't sing the 'Auld Lang Syne', which would probably have sent me off the deep end. Jake had slept during the day, so he was wide awake till 1am. It was the first time that he'd stayed up to witness the changing of the year, not that it meant anything to him - he was just allowed to stay up unbelievably late...
Duracell curled up underneath the braai, enjoying it's warmth. I managed to sneak the bottle of wine in without him running away...
And that's it. I didn't use my camera much, forgot I had it...
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