helen-louise (baratron) wrote,

  • Mood:

bah humbug to "new year".

We were invited to something like 4 different New Year's parties, and I didn't particularly want to go to any of them. I don't celebrate this as the change of the year. All that stuff about new hopes and new starts seems entirely pointless when there's no frigging sunlight and I'm in the middle of SAD. Trying to make any kind of resolution to improve my life in midwinter is about as much use as a chocolate teapot, only less tasty.

But Richard decided he wanted to go to see people who might be at one party, and I decided to join him; after checking with the hosts that it would be ok for me to hide away in a bedroom upstairs playing Sims 2 and being social only in very small doses. So I got out of bed, had a shower, put on party clothes and sorted cake into boxes. Richard put on the time t-shirt I got for his birthday, and the Creature Hoodie I got him for Christmas. And we went to get the train.

And it was the most horrendous train journey I've been on in a long time. Commuter train packed to the gills with drunken young people, passing bottles around between themselves, some of them smoking; a bunch of people coming through the train selling "Von Dutch caps" for £5 or a shot of "laughing gas" for £2. They had a canister of the stuff you use to whip cream and balloons and were squirting the gas into balloons for people to inhale. One of the team had some sort of "pills" or "pellets" that were being offered to people who spent enough on the "laughing gas". I don't want to know what they were. And this was at 8.30pm.

I find intoxication thoroughly unpleasant. I don't like being around intoxicated people, and I don't think it's funny when someone is so drunk they're throwing up. It's no fun being the person who doesn't want to celebrate something in a room full of people who do; and it's certainly no fun being the only sober person at a party where everyone else intends to drink; let alone coming home on a train or night bus full of sweaty, smelly people, some of them too blotto to know their own names, let alone the name of the person they're with, some of them puking their guts up.

So we got to Clapham Junction, stumbled out of the train through the crowd of obnoxious kids, and got the first train back home: to "celebrate" New Year in the comfort of our own home, with comfy pillows, blankets and video games, in peace and quiet. Happy 2007 to those who celebrate it. Happy Monday to the rest.
Tags: h-l is weird, introspection, sad, wuzzie

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