Friday, 1 January 2010

Lock all the doors

Last night, Mr Coffee and I scaled a new height of unsociability. We extended a New Year's Eve invitation which was phrased with such grumpiness and sarcasm that our guests failed to show at all.

Another couple might feel hurt by this. Not us. We curled up gleefully under a blanket with a bottle of wine and watched The Day of the Triffids, our M&S party snacks all forgotten at the back of the fridge. We would have completely missed the turn of the decade if it had not been for fireworks somewhere in the neighbourhood, which went off just as Brian Cox was having his arm torn off by a man-eating plant.

"They're probably where the fireworks are," we said of our missing friends, before snuggling further down on the sofa with delight to watch poor Brian's grisly demise.

You might dismiss this as the grumpiness of age; but if you did, you wouldn't know us at all. At the tender age of 23, Mr Coffee and I could most commonly be found sitting in the middle of the carpet together, drinking a bottle of port. Withdrawing from society is one of our favourite things. Don't get me wrong - people are nice in their way. Some of them are perfectly lovely. But they're not us.

So this was going to be a post about resolutions (including Littlest's bonkers New Year vow - 'To Run About In the Sunset'). But how can I talk about resolutions, and plans and schemes, when it turns out that going to a poetry reading eighteen years ago and then giving the bloke who was taking ticket-money at the door a lift home to his mum's was the best and most life-changing decision I ever made?

Here's to another Happy New Year, Mr C.


  1. Happy New Year and thanks for the lift.

  2. Sounds like a wonderful New Year's Eve.

  3. Destiny, call it whatever. I am a believer in love (now we can all go off and be sick) and you know what. Me and MadDad are pretty antisocial and much prefer each others company!!

  4. I get more antisocial as I get older. My parents are the same - a couple of very close friends, and their family, and that's all they need. I think it would far more worrying if you didn't prefer to spend time together than at a party!

  5. just the two of us here too....
    company is so over-rated :)
    wishing you many good things and plenty of port in 2010
    t x

  6. I hate people, too! Whew, what a relief to see that I'm not alone.

    But seriously...parties are overrated. On the other hand, I have to remind myself that having a couple of comfy old friends over for dinner or a cuppa can be a life-affirming experience; my tendency is to forget and curl up in an antisocial ball. And doing that 365 days a year isn't good either.

    (You write a damn good bloggy love letter. Well done.)

  7. happy new year, hope it brings you everything you wish for xx

  8. It's all starting to make sense...the drinking alone (together), the practicing of anti-social behavoir, the god-complex (I added that one for you, CL), the withdrawing from soceity, the withering sarcasm, the incontinence, the numerous tics, the need for attention, etc. etc. etc.

    You are escaped prisoners on the run, aren't you?

    You so-called "poetry reading" was a jail-break. Am I right?

    Little did you know the power of my sleuthing skills.

    I'm on my way to your neck of the woods to perform a "citizen's arrest." You'll be on the news by 7.

    PS-I was going to pretend I was one of "the other couple," but I think we both no there IS no other couple.

  9. We did the opposite - we wanted to drink and laugh and dance 2009 away and so we had a party!

    Usually though we would be most happy to do exactly what you and Mr C did...

  10. Perfect PERFECT New Year's Eve.

    Last night Mr. P and I ditched a party to stay at home with the cats. No awkward eye contact! (Except, you know, with the cats.)

  11. That sounds like a cosy, happy night to me. Parties give me the heebeegeebees sometimes.

    I realise I have written BeeGee without meaning to. That doesn't happen very often.

    In the end we watched the Quiz of the Year after Gavin and Stacey. I'm glad to say that Mr Mitchell was particularly nerdy, tweedy and, er, sexy.


  12. That's really rather slushy for you, you normally hardened criminal.

    >dabs eye with hanky and smiles like an indulgent auntie


  13. I refused to party - had a few friends in for " a quiet evening " and I left them to it when it looked like they weren't going to go home any time soon - I went to bed !

    I bought 'im out of doors & his mate a drink - fancied the mate & ended up with 'im out of doors

  14. Sounds like a perfect new year's -- I was forced out at the last minute to go eat cake, but all in all it wasn't too bad.

  15. we did a jigsaw (a very difficult one I might add).


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