Starting as I mean to go on....

It was a great night, but I missed the DJ/MC geeing up all through the night and then the countdown to the bells.

The fireworks were spectacular though. Well worth going to see. And they lasted for about 15 minutes.

But once they were over that was it. Just back inside for another night in the pub. Mental note to go somewhere with a DJ or band and lots of dancing next year. In Barcelona of course.

Cally, her Dad and Paul left at about 1230pm which left me, her 23 year old brother Rob and our new friend Tim.

There wasn’t much happening at Left Bank so Rob suggested we went to IBO as it was open until 4pm. It seemed like a plan as it was only 2pm and we would miss the rush home from here and also get a couple hours dancing and drinking in before sun up.

So Rob, Tim and I said our goodbyes to the few we knew left and off we skipped to our next New Years destination.

That was before Tim had to collect his rucksack and wet suit.

Yep, wet suit.

Apparently its very cold in Bahrain and so he can’t swim in the pool and he thought a wet suit would protect his cold bits.

Nice.

Our skipping soon came to a grinding halt when we got outside and saw thousands of other people who had also hoped to miss the 3am rush.

For as far as the eye could see there were nose to tail cars and literally hundreds of people wandering around not knowing which way to go.

It was 2am and it looked like we were going to have to walk all the way to IBO.

We headed down the beach road at least walking in the right direction towards home and/or IBO. High heel boots are not made for walking. However fortunately with a male crutch on each arm I was sorted. Actually, not sure who was holding who up but at least we were all going in the same direction.

The traffic jam was really bad and of course once we passed the Jumeirah Beach Hotel there were then hundreds more spilling out from there looking for taxis. Rob took charge and decided we had to get to Al Wasl Road.

So we headed for Al Wasl. As the crows fly. Straight through the villas and sand pits until we found a road. It was an empty road but at least we had left the madding crowd behind so any cabs that did pass had our name on it.

We merrily skipped along our newfound road with minimal excitement other than nearly being run over by a lorry.

Laughing and joking and moaning about high heel boots we made good progress along the way.

Until disaster struck.

Tim fell off the pavement, obviously with the weight of his wet suit he was carrying, and twisted his ankle.

Two young boys came over to help as Tim rolled around in the sand in agony. We were trying to sort him out when the next thing we knew was the boys in green arrived in their monster patrol car with flashing lights and a wee siren effect to scare us and pulled up onto the kerb beside us.

Actually they were in yellow with their night time luminous vests on not green.

They must have thought that we were fighting but we soon managed to charm them over with my basic Arabic. Which of course is always better when i have had a few drams.

Once we ruled out the need for an ambulance we managed to persuade them to give us a lift to Al Wasl Road to get a taxi. Well Tim couldn’t walk and there was no way one would come to where we were with all the other thousands looking for a cab.

Luckily they agreed. I actually tried to get them to take us to IBO but he politely told me not to push my luck so I didn’t.

So they whizzed us past the mob and stationery cards all the way to Al Wasl road and then flagged down a taxi to take us to the airport.

Well I couldn’t tell them we were going to IBO, I had to say we had a plane to catch.

How cool is that. 2 ½ hours into 2007 and I find myself in the back of a police car.

Well I did say that I wanted my life to be more exciting this year and its definitely started with a bang.

So we arrived at IBO with sore feet but as high as kites from our adventures and ready for a boogie and a bevy.

It was like walking into a school disco. Bearing in mind I was all dolled up to the nines, in my velvet trousers, silky bask thing and full length crocheted cardigan jacket thingie, all jeans and cotton topped clad young teenage looking girls heads turned my way.

Which was good coz that gave me a quick opportunity to suss that they were all also only in their 20’s. Not a problem, I wasn’t there to pull, just drink vodka and dance. Anyway I had our new friend Tim joined to my hip by this time and he must have been 30 something too. I think.

So Rob was in his element with all his young uns to play with and Tim and I just took over the dance floor and showed them how it was done. The bairns watched in awe as we showed them how it was done.

A few very drunk under agers tried to muscle in on the action but although I was flattered (I think) I had to remind myself I was old enough to be their mother and concentrated on the music instead.

New Years resolutions aside, if I am not totally on one, there always comes a time when it’s just that time of night for me to get the vodka scooter home.

So off I went with my homing beacon in full glow. Not a taxi in sight outside but after a few silent prayers to my vodka scooter angel and woo hoo, lo and behold one came round the corner with my name on it.

Got home safely and delicious home made soup in the pot ready waiting for me and its only 1230 back home so time to call everyone and wish them a happy New Year.

Wicked start to 2007.