Michelle Hanson gives Millennium celebrations the elbow ...
I have a plan for the Millennium. I'm staying in. Luckily I have no choice, I can't leave my mother at home alone, aged ninety-three, on the eve of the next century. She is my cast iron excuse to save me from plodding through crowds, traffic, noise and chaos to parties and events or whatever else is going on that we won't be able to get near anyway. So to avoid all this, I am going nowhere.
Daughter has another solution. She is going everywhere. She's planning to be out there in the thick of it. She has thrilling and meticulous plans. She is going to lots of parties and while she's at them she'll be on her mobile checking with all her friends on their mobiles at the other parties to find out which is the absolute best party, and then she's going to make sure she ends up at that one.
Let's hope she makes it. She may end up stuck on the Bakerloo line with a girfriend between parties, as I once did. Actually it wasn't bad as New Year's Eves go. I've had worse. There was rather a mellow mood on the Bakerloo line and a few mildly drunk persons, and at midnight the whole carriage burst into song. I can't remember what they sang, but it wasn't Auld Lang Syne.
Good job too. Singing that song gives me asthma. Can one be allergic to a song? When it's time for Auld Lang Syne, I hide. Last year wasn't so bad. I hid in the kitchen snacking. But at least New Year's Eve only lasts for one night down here. Up in Scotland, my friend Olivia tells me, it can go on for days on end. Sounds pretty gruelling to me. And this year could be one thousand times worse. Can that be possible? I'm not even going outside to find out.
