I can’t wait to see in new year in my slippers

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Making merry? I’ve had enough. So has my belly. It and the fridge are still bulging with leftovers. And neither are getting any emptier.

There are only two things in our household that are not overflowing in our household. One is the bank accounts (though thankfully we are not daft or desperate enough to do what that woman in Wiltshire did and set up eight payday loans to cover the cost of Christmas). Number Two is our diaries.

The latter is quite deliberate. We have planned the type of New Year’s Eve we have never previously experienced as a couple. Having waved goodbye to the gang of friends we normally spend New Year with up in a Lake District cottage, we will walk the dog till dusk and warm ourselves with hot tea and steaming showers.

Then we will clamber into pyjamas (no too-tight party frock and compression pants to grimace and bear) and tuck into a heart-warmingly sensible stew from the slow-cooker plus what’s left of the sprouts, switch on the box and have - oh festive peace and joy - A Quiet Night In.

We used to think it was only the friendless, the lonely and the downright unsociable who shunned the biggest party night of the year.

Now, we cannot wait to become party poopers. I doubt there will even be a celebratory glass of something fizzy from Aldi involved (there has been alcohol aplenty these last days and there is only so much heartburn I can endure).

Though we may spoil ourselves just a little by turning the central heating up a notch, our farewell to the old year and the greeting of the new will be done simply, from the sofa, as opposed to raucously, from a makeshift dancefloor.

Why have we turned our backs on revelry and excess? Because needs must. We’re knackered, stuffed and skint and thus, doing a Garbo sounded pretty damned brilliant. But can you credit it, we won’t actually be alone; three-quarters of the population will be with us in spirit. Throughout the land, people will be rocking the latest New Year trend. A QNI is now the height of cool.

So un-book the taxi, put your beer money back in the biscuit tin and use it as a down-payment on the gas bill, stick your sparkly stilettos in the cupboard and reach for your slippers. And join us for the biggest New Year party of all - the cosy, comfy one kicking back in living rooms throughout the land. Admission is free. Wehey!