New Year, then...

Here it is again - the ritual New Year thing. That weird moment in the year that is supposed to celebrate change and moving on and gerrin' on with it. Yet it's identical to the previous New Year thing.

How does that happen?

Remember that film Groundhog day? New Years can be like that sometimes...

My dad's got the right idea - he manages to be behind the bar of a handy pub or club every Jan One. I think he saw Millennium in at one of the Butlins camps - Skeggy I think - where he was the oldest redcoat in town. He's down the Tavern right now, mucking in and helping the party go with a bang.

It were no different when I was little. There was a New Years Eve every new Year's Eve round our house. A trolleyfull of all the premium tipples - Advocaat, Cherry B, Double Diamond, Mackeson, then Tenants tin with the scantiliyclads on 'em. "Hey I'D love a Babycham!" "You'll have a Shandy Bass and lump it..."

Dad was a bit of a party animal on the sly. He wasn't the dancing on the table type. He didn't have a demon drunken Mick Jagger impersonation up his sleeve, like my Uncle John. He didn't turn into a village idiot Karaoke King and belt out Madonna covers to the bemused aunts and uncles like I did...

He was quite simply the host with the most - Combined DJ and bardude, making sure everyone was having a good time. He'd got the party tapes and he'd got the cocktail brollys and sparklers. Come to think of it he ran a damn good party.

Then the parties all dried up, and the in-laws and outlaws all stooped in to watch the revelry on the box with a bottle of Baileys and a bag of After Eights for company.

I was getting standup falling down in town, and getting involved in scraps over taxis in the bus station. Dad wouldn't see me (or my brother, or my sis) for dust every NYE until he got the phone call at 3am from a call box groveling for a ride.

He was a dude. If the car started he'd get us home. That was cool.

He's still out there getting the party started. He spends part of the year as the local WMC Bingo Master if he can get the gig, and when you're out with him watching the Sunday Sky Sports live game he'll suddenly be off doing the pot man thing. "Siddown Dad, the barmaid'll do it..." " She's busy and they're running out of glasses..."

Can't say I've inherited the Party gene. My best New Years was spent alone on a canal bridge on a perfect starry night, watching the skies light up with distant fireworks, the moon reflecting on the icy canal. Or in bed with a bottle of Moet and a fresh girlfriend in a borrowed posh flat. Or with my old mates families on their annual takeover of a hotel - this year is some Hall in Cheshire. Most are parents now but still manage to party like rockstars, even though the Karmann Ghia's morphed into a Volvo V40.

Or better than all of 'em, tonight. Phone off the hook, daft movie on the box, and my gal curled up by my side with a full glass of Merlot.

I'm looking forward to this New Year 'cos our lass and me are tight. I'm proud of us, if truth be told. I've worked hard in my life and come a long way to find this kind of closeness of a New Year and I want it to last. Is that a New Years resolution?

Guess it must be.

Right.

Gottago. Got a lot of nothing to do tonight and someone fabulous to do it with. I'm sure you have too. Si thi next year, people!

Blogga.

2002, then...

Ayup's had another great year, and December nearly broke the hit rate record. The last three months have been awesome and now we're neck and neck with the Yorkshire Post according to Alexa, which is pretty cool.

Just wanted to say thanks for dropping by- specially you regulars. You know who you are. We really do appeciate the support! I know it's only a website, but our mission to provide a site that doesn't bore for Yorkshire seems to be paying off. So come back soon. No flipping.

Northerner.