New Year 1973

Evening found me sitting in the kitchen, feeling down, my parents and my elder brothers all out on the town., leaving me to babysit, a dull end to the year, too old for early bedtime, legally too young for beer. Ken McKellar on TV with Moira Anderson, too much for a young lad to take, so put the radio on. Radio Luxembourg my choice when tuning in the dial, although the signal fades and then comes back after a while. I'd see the new year in myself with style, or so I thought, by using all that's left at home, a tiny drop of port. Emptied my glass, “Happy new year! “ I heard the DJ say, “ It's twelve midnight in Luxembourg, eleven in the UK” I stared in some confusion at the port that I'd just drank, but realisation soon set in and my heart slowly sank. Nothing left in bottled form of a similar ilk, at our midnight I made do with a glass of full fat milk. Pulling stunt's like that on me is an absolute crime I can see now why they call the stupid thing 'Greenwich mean time'.