Happy New Year

It's gonna be a Happy New Year

It's gonna be a Happy New Year

New Year’s Eve morning. I woke up early and I needed coffee so I popped across the road to the nearest coffee shop. Em had gone to bed with a migraine and had said that she would pass on celebrating New Year with Claire and me in favour of something a bit quieter. I settled in at a table with a coffee and some wi-fi & was joined a little later by Claire. She had a couple of options for what we could do that evening. On her way home yesterday she had passed a restaurant in the harbour that had some spaces left. Neither of us fancied sitting out in one of the public parks all day at the mercy of the Sydney weather which had been a little mixed, saving a spot with a view for several hours, several hours where we would be without alcohol since they had banned people from taking booze in. I was too old for that sort of thing. We booked the restaurant on the basis that neither of us would be in Sydney for New Year’s for the foreseeable future, which justified the expense. Included was unlimited wine so we would make sure we got our money’s worth through that. We fired off a couple of emails to book a wine tour too.

Man in boot

I got a text from Em saying that she was up and feeling a bit better. I got her a coffee and we headed back across to the flat. Once we were all ready we went out for a drive, Em showing us some of the sights of Sydney. We stopped along the way at a lovely little cove, taking in the surroundings. We got distracted though, our attention drawn to the people getting into the car in front. Despite it being a rather large estate car it clearly wasn’t big enough for the whole family as there was a rather tall guy folding himself up into the boot. He was quite cute and I was tempted to say that he could ride with us but I didn’t think Em would approve. Claire, ever the barrister, ascertained that he wasn’t being kidnapped or forced into the boot against his will. Once satisfied that he was getting in of his own accord she took a photo. Em drove us to North Head but it was closed ahead of the New Year celebrations. We opted for ice cream in Manly instead before Em dropped Claire and me back in the centre & headed off to her friends.

After a siesta, snacks and a shower, Claire and I set off for Oceanroom, making our way down to the harbour. As we got closer the crowds became thicker and by the time that we reached the restaurant the streets were packed. We had a little time to walk down to the end of the street, right up under the Harbour Bridge. The spectator area was full to capacity, announcements being made to people where they could go to to still find space. I was pleased I wasn’t in the crowds. They still had 5 hours to go before midnight. We found the restaurant where we were greeted by a cocktail. Well, a waiter holding a tray of cocktails greeted us but our focus was on the alcohol. We were shown where our table was and then invited out on to the private terrace. The restaurant had an amazing view of the Opera House and we could just about see the Bridge by leaning over the barrier at the waters edge and peering left. As spots to see in the New Year go I was mightily impressed and thanked Claire for finding such a gem.

  

Family fireworks over Sydney Opera House

We settled in to our table where our waiter introduced himself. Claire set about chatting and flirting a little with him, a ploy to ensure a steady flow of alcohol for the evening. She also managed to get into the conversation with him very early on that her and I were just friends, just in case he was straight and single. She stopped short of telling him that I was gay. The ploy worked and we were soon toasting the impending New Year with a glass of bubbles. Dinner was a five course set menu affair and the food was amazing. The first two courses were served before the 9pm fireworks and we had oysters, crab, prawn, tuna and Wagyu beef, all of it delicious. Up until now I hadn’t realised that Sydney had two firework displays – a 9pm “family show” and the midnight fireworks. I guess the family show at 9pm was so that little kids could get to see some before falling asleep rather than the midnight ones being x-rated & not suitable for children. We made our way back out to the terrace, drinks and cameras in hand for the family fireworks. The Sydney fireworks have always looked stunning on TV and I felt like I needed to pinch myself as a reminder that I was actually there seeing them going off over the Opera House just the other side of the quay from me. It was the first time in nearly two decades that I had “oohed” and “aahed” at fireworks without it being sarcastic.

Back inside the restaurant after the family fireworks the mood had changed noticeably. There was a buzz about the room, more laughter and conversation going on, probably due to the great fireworks and the first couple of hours of wine consumption. Over the next couple of courses we listened to a live jazz band. They started off with some nice easy listening tunes, the singer was very good, a little Bublé-esque. The singer was positioned next to a rather large table of Liverpudlians, who did a spot of good-natured heckling. They sang along a little and asked him if he did requests, shouting out songs that they wanted to hear. He said that he couldn’t sing any of the songs that they suggested but then did an amazing version of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies just for them. He tried to get them up to dance but they refused. He said they were playing hard to get. I said to Claire that “playing hard to get” for a Liverpudlian woman meant wearing knickers.

Panna cotta boobs

After a few more glasses of wine we arrived at the final course for the evening, a trio of desserts. The dessert course included two blue cheese panna cotta puddings, each topped with a black cherry. I jiggled the plate ever so slightly and they wobbled like the boobs that they resembled. I am still a big kid at heart and the most childish things amuse me. Luckily Claire is used to my sense of humour and played along, sucking up one of the black cherry nipples straight from the top of the pudding. By the end of the meal we were completely stuffed. The waiter was still doing a sterling job on keeping both our glasses topped up, bringing us more wine and a fresh glass of bubbles ready to see in the New Year. We headed back out on to the quay and joined in the countdown, wishing each other a Happy New Year and then watching the amazing firework display. Words can’t adequately describe how amazing it was to be there, on the opposite side of the world seeing in the New Year.

We had a final nightcap, another glass of bubbles, sat back at the table. The couple on the next table were up dancing, their two young children both asleep on the table despite the noise of the place. I miss that being that age where you could sleep anywhere (sober) regardless of what was going on around you. By the time we left the crowds had thinned a little. We walked up through the crowds and both concluded that it was one of the best New Year’s we had had. The accountant part of me calculated that 2011 had been the shortest year of my life on the basis that I had totally lost 16 November when I crossed the International Date Line coupled with the fact that I was seeing in 2012 hours earlier than normal. I dropped Claire off at the train station and headed back to Em’s place, which thankfully was only a couple of minutes walk away. I told Claire that if the trains were too crowded or not running to call and she could crash on the sofa. Luckily she didn’t need to call because as soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep.

“It's gonna be a Happy New Year” 
Lyrics from Happy New Year from the musical Rent