Did very little this evening. Partly because I'm knackered from all the travelling we've been doing recently (for which I will and rightly deserve zero sympathy), partly because what exactly am I supposed to do on New Year's Eve in Mons? Our two friends who live here were away, and the other people we do know we don't know well enough. Or they have families.
And partly because New Year's Eve is another occasion when you're supposed to "do something," ideally, something big. And when I feel forced into doing and feeling something ("yeah, be happy, smile, it's New Year's Eve, let's party..."), I tend to react against it. Surprise, surprise.
Anyway, I did actually wander to the Grand Place to see how Les Montois like to celebrate it. Last year, I remember seeing fireworks coming from the Grand Place area so agreed (albeit under pressure from C) to see them this year. Fireworks. Another thing I just can't get excited about. How many bloody fireworks displays do you need to see in a lifetime? Yes, I've seen some amazing ones (in Spain), but I don't need to see them again and again.
So, there were around a hundred people milling about. Some with alcohol in their hands, some wearing sparkly things on their clothes, others with their faces painted. And then someone began a countdown (I made it to be only 11.56pm on my watch!). And then...nothing. A few kisses exchanged between friends. A few people shouting. A bit.
Everyone looking around, slightly embarrassed, thinking that maybe they missed something. Maybe something was happening behind their backs. Or in the next street. A few bangers were let off in the middle of the street. Bit of colour here and there. And that was that. The official New Year's Eve damp squib.