Well let's start on a positive note by saying a huge Happy New Year to each of you, the blog readers who are family, or who have become family.
Tonight/this morning I write as one extremely frustrated Editor. The time now is 3:24am and I would like to apologise in advance for the limited nature of this blog. Having composed a 45 minute blog, around 90 minutes ago, detailing the events of the night, unfortunately I have been the victim of wonderful Indian technology. As such I have lost the entire 45 minute effort, plus the 30 minute unsuccessful attempt to regain it. Sadly, therefore you will be left with an abbreviated version as at this hour of the morning I simply am too heartbroken to start from the beginning. So in short:
Tonight we saw in the New Year and what a night it was. It contained outrageously classy dance moves (led by George Harman and Patrick Jung), some very inappropriate skuxxing (the Editor will not be drawn to say by who however), some massive efforts in the food consumption stakes (resulting in a significant bill), some graceful midnight swimming (everyone take a bow), and some legendary sing-a-longs by a chorus of 25.
Many of the boys noted tonight that they will probably never have another experience of New Year celebrations in this form ever again; and they are absolutely right!
Tonight was ours- we owned the shack, the music, the dance floor, and the adoration of those who came to watch. As a side note, the number of women in our surroundings could be added up on two hands, whereas the men . . . they numbered in the thousands, with most wearing nothing other than their 'y-fronts', thus being seen rocking out all their body hair, and skin and bones (or conversely their pudding stomachs) in all their glory. Our boys found the whole sight of these individuals uneasy, especially considering most of these men, highly likely to be between their mid 20s and late 40s, were seen chasing each other over the beach playing 'tag' in their underwear whilst screaming 'Happy New Year' and 'I Love My India'.
In all, we had a hugely memorable night. It contained sights of absurdity, moments of sheer unusualness, and memories that will live on well past the year that comes. Ultimately it will be remembered as being the evening we stood on a beach, with the sand between our toes, and could truly say we were living.
Best wishes to all in 2014.
Ben
Tonight/this morning I write as one extremely frustrated Editor. The time now is 3:24am and I would like to apologise in advance for the limited nature of this blog. Having composed a 45 minute blog, around 90 minutes ago, detailing the events of the night, unfortunately I have been the victim of wonderful Indian technology. As such I have lost the entire 45 minute effort, plus the 30 minute unsuccessful attempt to regain it. Sadly, therefore you will be left with an abbreviated version as at this hour of the morning I simply am too heartbroken to start from the beginning. So in short:
Tonight we saw in the New Year and what a night it was. It contained outrageously classy dance moves (led by George Harman and Patrick Jung), some very inappropriate skuxxing (the Editor will not be drawn to say by who however), some massive efforts in the food consumption stakes (resulting in a significant bill), some graceful midnight swimming (everyone take a bow), and some legendary sing-a-longs by a chorus of 25.
Many of the boys noted tonight that they will probably never have another experience of New Year celebrations in this form ever again; and they are absolutely right!
Tonight was ours- we owned the shack, the music, the dance floor, and the adoration of those who came to watch. As a side note, the number of women in our surroundings could be added up on two hands, whereas the men . . . they numbered in the thousands, with most wearing nothing other than their 'y-fronts', thus being seen rocking out all their body hair, and skin and bones (or conversely their pudding stomachs) in all their glory. Our boys found the whole sight of these individuals uneasy, especially considering most of these men, highly likely to be between their mid 20s and late 40s, were seen chasing each other over the beach playing 'tag' in their underwear whilst screaming 'Happy New Year' and 'I Love My India'.
In all, we had a hugely memorable night. It contained sights of absurdity, moments of sheer unusualness, and memories that will live on well past the year that comes. Ultimately it will be remembered as being the evening we stood on a beach, with the sand between our toes, and could truly say we were living.
Best wishes to all in 2014.
Ben
No comments:
Post a Comment