Damn, i hope it’ll be civil. (Direct translation joke — from the Hebrew “shana ezrachit”, meaning the not-specifically-Jewish year, as also counted in the dateline in Israel.)

So, last night, December 31 2007, for the first time in… oh, must be at least a hundred years, i tarted up my 38-year-old booty and headed out to party like it was 1999. Or 2007, whatever.

Yes, last night, I strutted my funky stuff on the dance floor, blew streamers and drank cheap sparkly booze masquerading not terribly convincingly as champagne at the stroke of midnight. (I had one sip, i am NOT a “ma’afan” and i do NOT drink and drive thank you very much — and it was disgusting.)

It’s so bizarre, the notion of celebrating the New Year — and then coming into work the next day. Memories, albeit dim, and distant memories, of partying literally until i dropped at a friend-of-a-friend’s house, falling asleep where i lay, and waking up the following morning stiff and bleary, with a general feeling of — as someone once marvelously coined it — “as if I’ve been slept in”.

It’s been a while, put it that way.

I was at a club for the “Over-30s”. An assignation for which I, unfortunately, qualify, and have done for eight-nearly-nine years. And as we boogied and shimmied (and, in my case, some rather over-enthusiastic jiving and an extremely poorly-executed set of twirls with my inebriated and wonderful friends Lara and Yanca), I reflected on why on earth we were there.

So it’s a new year. Big fat hairy deal. Like i give a shit. Here I am, speeding head-first towards 40, with no respite or time off for good behavior. Why should I care that the year has changed, since all it heralds for me is the ominous looming of the big four-oh?

Any excuse for a party? Yeah, well, maybe. Exercise? Sure.

Well, whatever. Champagne always did make me feel gloomy. The cheaper the champers, the more maudlin my mood. Ignore my downer, and have a good new year, y’all. May it bring us all continued good health to those who have it, significantly improved health to those who don’t, peace, prosperity and if anyone who runs the universe is reading, i wouldn’t mind a lottery win or two…

PS. Why is it called “Sylvester”? Read all about it here.