Thar she blows.

Well NYE 2007 got off to a fabulous start. What with the 41-degree heat and all, I decided to pop home to Mum’s for a swim before heading out for the evening. After getting in the car I realised I forgot my iPod, so I quickly nipped back inside to get it. I stopped along the way to shut my computer down, grab a nectarine and generally dick about the place for a few minutes.

Upon returning to the front yard I was alarmed to find my car not parked on the street as it was ninety seconds before, but rolling backwards towards the tram tracks and about twenty parked cars. Unsupportive bikini under flimsy t-shirt ignored, I hurtled myself down the road after it, even flagging down a car by throwing my arms above my head and screaming “FUCKING HELP ME!!!!!!” to no avail. Just as my car mounted the roundabout I jumped in, hit the brakes and turned the key, only to be greeted by 10,000 decibels of AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’ whilst simultaneously having thirteen heart attacks behind the wheel.

Yet ladies and gentleman, boys and girls – not a single dint in her shiny black flesh. My car managed to navigate its way out of a reverse park (albeit a pretty wide one), along the median strip and onto the roundabout two hundred meters away without making contact with neither car nor domicile. Bravo.

If anything, it gave me a story to dine out on for a while.

So NYE turned out to be a fabulously silly extravaganza as expected, which is lucky as I expected no less than wonderful company, endless ping pong, live music in a tennis court, eighteen dashes to the swimming pool, a thousand stars and waking up wearing someone else’s shoes.

Happy, Happy 2008.