Well, here we are! It’s 2025 and I haven’t made a single resolution.
I think this is the first time when I haven’t even considered writing a list. I woke up at 2pm on 1 Jan. (so, resolving to become an early riser was immediately out with the bath water) and just carried on as usual.
And you know you can’t start on 2 Jan. It’s like promising to start a diet on a Monday after inhaling the fridge contents the day before, but then you succumb to a full-fat muffin in the morning, and suddenly … that’s it for the week. I mean, who the hell begins anything on a Tuesday?? That’s just crazy talk! You’ll try next Monday, when you can be sure that box of muffins will be long gone.
Extrapolating that (ridiculous) mindset to the next level, I guess that means I’ve got plenty of time to work on my resolution tactics before 1 Jan. 2026.
In the last week, we’ve all been asking each other how our New Year’s Eve was. Even if you didn’t leave the house, there are pics everywhere on social media of people wearing shiny cardboard top hats, toasting with Champagne and dancing the night away.
I’ve certainly had my share of great New Year’s celebrations … and then some not so great. The latter may or not have been sometimes my fault. Luckily, there was no easy digital video proof recorded back in those days. And get yer minds out of the gutter; I’m talking about weeping in the lap of a good-looking man, who no doubt wished he’d left with his friends an hour before.
There is so much pressure to have an amazing, magical New Year’s Eve, isn’t there? And with the number of options these days, you worry about making the right choice. The FOMO is real.
One year, long, long ago, we went out on a boat party. “See the fireworks from the water and enjoy an all-you-can-drink bar for one low price.” The spirits were all off-off-label brands I’d never heard of – like something between moonshine and MD 20/20 – with a metallic aftertaste that couldn’t be denied, or disguised, when mixed with sodas or juice.
Without going into details, let’s just say that I will never participate in a boat party again without hiring someone to follow on a jetski so I can get off when I need to.
Another element of the evening that’s become vitally important as I’ve got older, is the toilet situation. I need to know exactly how many stalls there are, how often they are cleaned, and is the loo paper regularly topped up? I remember lining up for the restrooms for ages at one legendary Calico Jack’s night, when I would have cheerfully paid to jump the queue. Despite having to ‘hold it’, that was overall one of my favourite New Year’s Eves, because I was young and able to dance on the sand all night without pausing to consider the strength of my ankles. At this age, I’d wake up the next day walking like an emperor penguin.
I’ve done posh evenings, where it’s a plated dinner with quality swag as freebies. You know what I’m talking about – the proper light-up stuff with batteries that can be changed out, so you try to snag some extras to give your niece and nephews the next day as an ‘extra’ Christmas gift. They are well chuffed until they turn about 10, then the jig is up and they know what you did.
It’s nice to have a fancy night once in a while, but I’d like the comfort with a bit of mayhem thrown in.
Yes, I’ve certainly had my interesting mix of 31 Dec. parties, particularly when I had to sing with my band for them. The gigs could be incredible or like something akin to a Blues Brothers’ booking. That’s the thing with entertainers, servers, bartenders and anyone else in the hospitality industry – while everyone is whooping it up, they are working … and HARD. As you are getting on your sparkly togs, musicians and DJs are hauling heavy equipment into place to set up for a long night ahead. Banquet staff at hotels are putting together chairs, tables and bars on the beach (they must have really strong ankles). Servers are lifting barbells at home, ready to hoist laden trays into the air for hours at a time. (Okay, I’m not actually sure about the barbells, but you get the picture.)
I’m not singing with a band these days, but I still work every NYE, organising entertainers for other people’s parties – and it’s terrifying, exhilarating, stressful and amazing. Any of us behind the scenes knows the importance of our jobs. It’s the biggest night of the year, and it’s our responsibility to make sure that guests and audience members have the time of their lives.
That’s why people I’ve known in the business for years, and I, don’t celebrate until the last firework has exploded, the last note has been played, and the final drink of ‘last call’ has been served.
Did everything go well? Was everyone happy? Will Pete’s guitar be okay?
Now that I come to think of it, maybe an exception for New Year’s resolutions should be made for anyone who has to work New Year’s Eve. They officially get to start on 2 Jan. so they can live it up on 1 Jan. after the madness is done.
Man … if only it wasn’t 10 Jan. Top of the list for next year; promise.
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