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It's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes and leap!

Imagine standing at the top of a hill. Excitement fills the air. A cacophony of sounds fill your ears. Fear fills your tummy: "What on earth have I done?" There you are standing at the top of a hill that suddenly seems a lot steeper than it initially looked (ok, Irish readers, it was twice the size of the hill in Griffith park. It's scarier than it sounds!) and sledding seems like a very bad idea.

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So while I'm still healing


I'm not a huge New Year's Eve person. I don't remember the last time I truly enjoyed it in years. Ok, I do. It was my first year back in Ireland after college. My sister's friend MK came up for a visit and we stayed up watching Surviving Christmas and, I think, a Take That performance. We were dragged outside to greet the new year and then rushed back in for sausages and egg-flip. We stayed up late and, eventually, one-by-one crawled our way up the stairs and into bed. My younger brother and sister remained downstairs as they decided that they'd clean up so our Mam wouldn't have a heart attack first thing in the new year (yes, we were that messy). The next thing I knew my dad was shouting for us all to get up and come downstairs as there was a grand surprise in the kitchen. I remember grumbling and complaining that it was probably just one of the neighbours. I was so annoyed that my sleep had been disturbed (it was!!!) and so I reluctantly pulled on a jumper, scrambled for socks and shoes and made my way down stairs. A screech of excitement poured out of me and the rest of my siblings: My aunt from America was in town! She hadn't told my mam that she was coming and only the two dotes who had stayed up cleaning knew about it. We spent the day chatting, eating and, at some point, in Cineworld watching Happy Feet while my aunt passed out next to us. It was a marvellous  new year as was the one following that (wow,  this is not going well for my post about not liking New Year's!) as another aunt and a cousin visited us from America. My Aunt stayed with us on New Year's eve and we spent the evening drinking, singing, playing games and just having a good time. I think we all stayed up, parents and aunt included, until at least 2 or 3 in the morning.

Most of my New Year's Eves, however, have felt like a let down. There is this huge build up to what amounts to not very much. Maybe I'm a cynic and maybe I've been alone too long but I feel that, much like Valentine's day, New Year's is a couple's holiday and there is a stench of desperation in the air when you are single. "Oh, you're single? What are you going to do for Valentine's/New Year's?" "Oh, who are you going to kiss when it's midnight?" Seriously, who cares? 


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