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Christ, talk about a depressing title for the first post of 2006. Alas, it’s true, but it’s regrets about one thing, and one thing only.

New Years Eve night.

Like Middlesborough FC, they’re so full of promise before, and end up so dissappointing. With the exception of New Years Eve 1999, 2000, 2001 and 2004, I haven’t had a fantastic one. Usually the parties are maticulously organised, which adds to the dissappointment.

Last night, I didn’t have a party to go to, and the screenshot to the right was taken at 8pm New Years Eve, looks like that was my evening. I had debated with Sibley whether I wanted to go to Liverpool. I said know, and I was regretting saying so. That was until around 9pm, my mum said we were invited to a house party at the end of the street, and we were going.

I toddled off with 4 cans of Export at around 10, and arrived…..and was surrounded by chavs. Some of which I knew from Eirias, and who were a few years younger. I had no problem with them. I some of which – the more drunker ones – were not.

But there was this one girl who could only be described as a virus. She was from Rhos on Sea, and was around 16 years of age. She wouldn’t leave me alone, and was completely sober.

Midnight came, and fireworks which were probably on the UN’s WMD list until recently were set off. After a few happy new years to my mum and dad, I went into the dining room, and nursed my 8th beer in the corner. It’s one of those parties that despite the amount of alcohol I drunk, I wouldn’t get pissed, as I was miserable.

I thought a lot about what would of occurred in Liverpool, the fact that the lads were out, pulling, pissed, pancakes and (from an email I got this morning) porn. I also looked at myself, sat in the corner, with the virus in a this Rhos-On-Sea/Scouse accent calling me frigid for spending the first seconds of 2006 not dancing and having ‘fun’. And then, came a realisation.

I sure as hell regretted not going to Liverpool.