A piper at the gates of the year

I went about my various chores, and then sloped down to Lorraine's house for some lemony herby pasta thing, which was slimming and delicious. Chatted to Mark and Beth who have found a person to play the corpse in Wrong in March. Despite feeling sluggish and achy, I decided to head out and damn the torpedoes.

Out with Sam and Lorraine to the restaurant Wayne manages. A lovely space inside and is where we are going to stage This concert will fall in love with you again in February. Wayne zooming about hospitably, but Matt ill this evening. We sat for a while with Wayne's family, but it was a little awkward and hard to talk over the music. Then Wayne flagged a taxi and we three repaired to the Basketmakers, where people were singing, dancing and full of cheer. We happened to be on a table next to a kilted Scotsman who soon unleashed his bagpipes to enormous acclaim. I love the wild sound of bagpipes but this being England, one or two weren't so keen and there was some muttering about octopuses, and one slightly inebriated gentleman popped his finger over the drone. But in general there was much applause, and the Landlord brought him over an exceedingly large Scotch afterwards which he took to like a duck to water.

The hour came round at last. On the table next to us a taciturn man pulled his cardigan over his head as the bongs of Big Ben rang out through the pub speakers. Otherwise a happy moment, with much kissing of Lorraine and shaking of Sam's hand, not to mention some counting of my blessings, as the pipes stirred again for Auld Lang Syne and 2010 retreated into the west.

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