The New Year’s Eve roundup

2 Jan

As a introverted misanthrope, it should surprise none of you that I have refused to celebrate New Year’s Eve for at least a decade. Naturally, this belongs in the list of other surprises such as “Amoir: not a fan of the general public”, “Amoir, unlikely to wear pink frills” or “How I learned to love soy milk lattes”.

However, with the Seagull in tow and living on the steps of the city, I decided this year would be different. So out we headed to Fed Square to take part in the celebrations.

First stop, a musical performance. Which kinda bored us both. Except for the 30+ slapper in the tight electric blue tube top who was whooping it up as though she were auditioning for Showgirls. To a children’s‘ band. Surrounded by children. And tsking mothers who kept running up to security. Unfortunately, Slappertina was escorted away by security while her long suffering eldest boy continued to look after his younger siblings.

We wended our way through the neo-daubed throng (fluorescent tubes and wands were all the rage) to watch the fireworks. Normally the Seagull is a battle-ready Valkyrie and the scarier something is, the more she flocks to it. But the ‘gull was most freaked by the fireworks and immediately stopped dancing, scurried up my leg for a “cuggle” and buried her head into my neck. The rising balloons and falling lights from “Dream Seeds” was far more enjoyable for her.

As the night wore on and became more sticky, we headed home and felt assured the lass would have a night of sound sleep. However, 10 minutes of midnight fireworks (living so close to the Yarra and Fed Sq made this inevitable) eventually roused her and she ended up jumping about in my bed for at least an hour before falling asleep in excitable defeat.

But right now? There is neither defeat nor fatigue as she bounces around in her cot, happily refusing to nap as she sings, pretend sneezes and reads.

It was possibly the best New Year’s I’ve ever had.

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