Saturday 1st January 2011

As I begin to write this, the Wiener Philharmoniker is beginning the New Year's concert from Vienna. This is now firmly established as a regular event each New Year's day for us. It is something that my first wife introduced to me, and I have continued to watch it each year whenever I can.

And so ring out the old, ring in the new.

So, for new Year's Eve we spent a good part of the day assembling furniture. Our old shelves that held our CDs had collapsed after having kittens sit on their lower shelves, and so before the VAT rise we ordered three new 2m high units enough for nearly double the CDs we have now.



Of course we had to battle with vague instructions, cats chasing screws and bottles of glue and my gammy knee. But, after getting the first one put together, the other two went up easy enough. And we were able to put the thousand or so CDs back. It looks like a CD shop in our living room now.

A week or so ago, we had called in the Red Lion for a pint, and saw that they were having a hog roast for New Year's and so we bought two tickets and so that is where we planned to see in the new year; all full of pork and crackling.

We set off at half seven, arriving just before eight, finding the pub less than half full; we bought a couple of drinks and settled down to people watch. Our problem being that although this was our local, we were not regulars. And so we talked to no one else really. This is not really a problem for us, as we enjoy each other's company well enough.

So we cradled our drinks and people watched; old blokes propping up the bar to ladies our age dressed as teenagers with impossibly high heels on and layers of orange make up to young teen couple stopping off for a cheap-ish drink before hitting a club.

And then the village transsexual walked in; not that we have any problem with her life choices, but in a previous life there is a possibility she was a male builder with strong arms and deep voice. Even now she cuts a dramatic figure; six foot six in her size 15 slingbacks and peroxided bottle permed hair.



At half nine the food was served; we had a couple of pork rolls and then looked at each other as the music had been turned up; shall we go home? we both said; and so got our coats and headed out the door.

And so we found ourselves back indoors by ten, waiting for Jools Holland to come on TV and entertain us with fine music to midnight. We opened a bottle of Cava and roasted some chestnuts and sat on the sofa with the kittens until we could keep our eyes open no longer, and so climbed the stairs to bed.



Rock, and indeed, roll.