Can you believe that (a) Christmas is little over a week away and (b) 2009 is nearly over?

I have to admit that I’m not a huge fan of new year and all the pressure to ‘party like it’s blaa blaa blaa‘. I’ve always been decidedly underwhelmed by the night and, to be honest, I’m quite grateful for the fact that having small children combined with the extortionate rates babysitters charge on the 31st means I won’t have to venture out of my house at all this year.

My favourite new year memory has to be the time I was expecting my daughter (new year 2004/5). I was 8 months pregnant and stone cold sober, surrounded by very drunk family members. I pinned all my hopes on my Dad who was in hospital having chemo at the time. I felt sure that I’d ring him at midnight and find a kindred spirit… someone who could relate to my boring night. I thought he’d be in pyjamas too, sipping hot chocolate and watching telly… just like me. After all, he was sick.

So at 12.05 I picked up the phone and rang his private room at the hospital in London.

No answer.

Strange. Hang up, try again.

Still no answer.

Slightly panicked now. Try one more time.

Nothing.

Getting worried. Ring the nurse’s station.

Me: Could you check on my Dad please. He’s not answering his phone.

Nurse: Erm… He’s on the roof.

Me: Excuse me?

Nurse: Yes, he’s on the roof with the nurses.

Me: Oh.

Nurse: Ok then. Happy New Year.

Yep. My terminally ill father had smuggled some cans of Stella on to the ward and taken the nurses up on to the roof of UCH hospital to watch the fireworks over London.

Absolute legend.

Loveaudrey xxx