Even as a twenty-something year old man - at the height of my pubbing and clubbing days - I hated New Year's Eve and the obligation to 'do something' for fear of missing out.
Nightclubs doubled the entry fee, taxis cost an arm and a leg, DJs played crap novelty records all night, and you tried to avoid the beer monsters who partied twice a year (New Year's Eve and Christmas Eve). Even your normally quiet local pub had to employ door staff.
And then something magical happens.
You grow up.
You realise you don’t actually have to join the circus.
You treat it like any other night - bed by 10pm, snug as anything - leaving the fireworks and forced merriment to the brave souls outside. You stir briefly as a distant firework pops to announce the new year… then roll over and drift back to sleep.
Pure bliss.
Johns: "Invest in your juniors, put a whole lot of money into kids, identify the best kids at 13, 14, 15 & 16, teach them a style of play that is unique to the north of England, piss off all the imports coming in who are reserve-graders in Australia."
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