It’s 11.30pm on New Year’s Eve, and I think for the first time in about ten years I am not the slightest bit frantic, worried, depressed or feeling inadequate. This is also the first time in ten years that I didn’t go out for New Year’s. After last year – all of the pressure to enjoy yourself, the frantic obsession with the new millennium appearing, the cold weather, the mud, the crowds – nothing appeals to me less than going out. So fuck it. I’m going to stay in and do stuff that I like doing: watch movies, eat pasta, read books.