As is my wont at this time of year, I've taken a complete and utter break. Please accept my apologies for PB silence over the last week. I'm currently sitting on a very comfortable sofa at my home-from-home, Stapleford Park hotel in Leicestershire having eaten and drunk my way through the festivities and am now slowly gearing myself up for 2010. Posh resolutions are being thought through.
On the brink of a whole new decade, the newspapers have been summing up and discarding the Noughties (which appear to be encapsulated by Tony Blair, Katie Price, Google and terrorism). What will the Teenies bring? David Cameron, Alexa Chung in a Barbour, the Tablet and oil wars. Perhaps.
But for now, let's concentrate on immediate revelry. If you want a posh new year, get stupidly drunk before midnight, dance a Scottish reel or two on the hour, eat breakfast at 1am and fall asleep in the wrong bedroom, having made a pass at the wrong wife.
Pip pip! Hoorah. xxx
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