ME + NYE = DISASTER

Ok, so can I start by firstly reassuring everyone back home that I AM NOT HAVING A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN.

Yes, so in the grand tradition of Mellipop's Annual NYE Disaster, this New Year just past is a new entry - with a bullet - into my All-Time Tragic Top 10. Let me tell you, I've had some shockers in my time, none of which I intend mentioning here.

So my first NYE in Perth was - like all virgin experiences - fraught with disappointment and tragedy. We had no idea what folks in Perth do for kicks, and since I am on forcible leave without pay for three weeks, the option of blinging it up was not an option at all.

Essentially, the short version of my night goes as follows: I crashed out at around 10 pm WA time (I made it to midnight Sydney time, at least) after spending the evening at home with a couple of bottles of wine, making drunken, teary phone calls to all our nearest and dearest back on the East Coast. I now live in dire fear of receiving our next phone bill.

So if any of you received such a phone call (and I believe they got messier as the evening wound to its premature close), just chalk it up to yet another of my heartwarming eccentricities and rest assured that - and I repeat - I AM NOT HAVING A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN.

Following from that, I would also appreciate NOT being reminded of the tone or content of any of these calls, few of which I clearly remember and all of which I would prefer to forget. Yes, I do really love you all but I would have preferred not to have been quite so weepy about it... It's not good for my image, you see. I'm hardcore.

According to Anton, my last known movements were to cry myself to sleep on the couch with my tongue hanging out, only roused by the need to vomit into a stew-pot thoughtfully laid out for me by my beloved.

Another NYE triumph!