It’s that time of the year again.
It’s not actually the 31st yet so when I’m writing this I’m very excited because Christmas hasn’t come yet and I’m expecting my parents to arrive.
I’ve just moved houses and have no sofa or table or vacuum, but I know it’ll be good.
I never feel really sentimental and I never feel really French but this month I’m feeling very much both.
Most years I just find this period a bit strange. You go home and spend Christmas with your family, you sit at a table talking about your job with your grandad and five days later you’re too drunk to stand in the middle of a crowded bar. YouToday’re eating your own weight in turkey and losing your extra pounds on the 1st while being sick all day.
I’ve already decided I won’t go out on New Year’s Eve. I don’t think I can deal with forced fun one more year.
I will be sad to miss all these tiny tight sparkly dresses and heels that won’t last until midnight.
But as much as I enjoy the entertainment of watching drunk boys desperately flirting with whatever girl would talk to them not to spend the first seconds of 2016 on their own, I do like the idea of not ruining my night.
My best memory of that night so far must be 2013.
Me and my best friend were desperate to be in Sheffield and yet stuck in Paris for another six months.
We knew in less than a year we’d have a flat in the city centre and would go out with our friends every night and talk to people with Yorkshire accents every day and that’s all we wanted to think about.
Paris on New Year’s Eve means not being able to get on the tube because it’s too crowded, not being able to get a taxi because they’re all taken, not being able to walk because the streets are littered with drunk people and smashed bottles, not enjoying yourself in a bar because drunk strangers will start fighting, not enjoying yourself at a party because drunk friends will fight, not enjoying yourself at home alone because you feel like a loser.
With that in mind, we invited two good friends of ours who shared our opinion and had the best night we could’ve had.
Two of our friends declined our offer and spent two hours stuck in a lift with 11 people they didn’t know, including one claustrophobic girl. That’s where they were at midnight.
So this year, I’ll be enjoying myself inside, with the only people I care about, staying away from fight in bars, smashed bottles and faulty lift.