"You need a glass of something!" said a woman I've never seen before. Before long, a tall glass of cheap champagne was thrust into my gloved hand. I watched the sparks fly upwards.
"Harry's got it, Harry's got it!" shouted my aunty's neighbour. Harry looked up from his phone and grinned like a blue goblin. "How long to go, Harry?" she bellowed across the circle.
Before long, we were all counting down with Harry in the time-honoured fashion - from 10 to Happy New Year. I started wondering how it is a group of people can somehow always organise themselves to count out seconds so well. Five turned to four turned to three turned to two turned to one turned to...
An orange rocket leaped into the sky and shattered into a thousand streams of coloured light. I felt a hand grab my free glove and a half-hearted chorus of Auld Lang Syne began. I started wondering how it is a group of people can somehow never find the same key as each other, despite their excellent counting.
In reality though, the New Year had already started four hours earlier, around my Mum's hospital bed. At 8pm, Walty pulled open a party popper and we all cheered in the year 2015 with plastic wine glasses topped up with sparkling apple.
"A toast!" cried somebody.
"Well," said my Mum, sitting up, "How about to family?" We raised our glasses.
"To family," she went on, "To the bond that holds us all together through difficulty, that keeps us strong and sticks us... together!"
"Amen to that!" said my niece, lifting her plastic glass. The bottom fell out and rolled across the linoleum. We all laughed. Together.
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