Panic on the streets of London...

The NYE party went amazingly well but more of that later, I want first to recount my epic journey of yesterday.

I'm feeling rather jet lagged at the moment even though Lisbon is just a matter of a couple of hours from the UK but this is mostly my own fault. For some unfathomable reason the airlines of the UK (and Portugal - they don't get off the hook that easily) have decided to stop running direct flights from the North (Manchester or Liverpool) to Lisbon. My choice would've been to go from the North to either Porto or Faro - not an ideal situation given Portugal's infrequent public transport system - or fly from London and travel down the night before. I much preferred the latter option as this way I could say goodbye to some friends that I don't get to see very often and also say goodbye to my old 'manor' so I booked my flight for early on the 31st from Luton.

I had my itinerary planned down to the minute but it was still really rather nerve wracking having to haul all my stuff through the streets of London. It is perhaps a little silly considering I used to live there for a year and never had any trouble but I was aware that I was going to be walking the streets of some of the rougher areas and this time I had extremely valuable cargo - the engagement ring I planned to propose with on my arrival. That ring caused me so many headaches because I dared not put it in one of my bags in case someone lifted it from the pub or snatched it in the street. It alternated then back and forth between my coat to my jeans (thus producing a rather startling bulge in my pants) but I felt much more at ease having it on my person. I did at one point contemplate that should the worse happen and and some gang stop me in Camberwell I'd throw my rucksacks at them and hotfoot it away with the ring safe and sound.

The plan was to leave my mum's house at around 12:30 on the 30th, get the train down to Euston arriving at around 16:30 and then heading down to New Cross for a few drinks with C & R, H and P. There was some debate as to whether we should head to the Hobgoblin or the Montague. I'll miss the Montague but I thought the Hobgoblin the safer choice, both for people getting back and due to the fact that I didn't really want to be walking around Peckham at night with my rucksacks. The Hobgoblin was also of course the scene of one of my great pub quiz successes, something that was sadly never to be repeated with my London Crew.

It was great to see those guys, C & R and P I hadn't seen since Barcelona and I hadn't seen H since her flat warming party in February so obviously there was a lot of catching up to do. No-one seemed particularly surprised by move and C was I think a little jealous of the ring in my pocket. She wants R to propose and even has the ring and has planned the wedding but has heard nothing yet from R.

H is doing well, she's considering doing a PhD at Oxford in 17th Century Literature which would be very interesting but I'm not sure where it would lead to for her. I really can't see H in an academic career, she's as cynical about it as me, if not more so and so it's probably just an excuse to avoid getting a proper job. She's getting by at the moment stuffing envelopes and setting English exams but she seemed pretty relaxed about it and was even talking about buying a houseboat with her brother.

C was doing a lot worse in the real word. She's finding the reality of being an English teacher a lot more difficult than she ever imagined. She never thought it would be easy but it has come as somewhat of a shock to her just how difficult it is. I think though that some of this pressure comes from herself. She holds herself to impossibly high standards and always has to be the best. I'm sure things will begin to settle down when she's into her second year. She was all full of excitement for me though and talking about plans for moving to New York to work as a teacher there . (This news immediately got S excited about the possibility of visiting.)

After the drinks (only a few ales for me as I had an important journey to undertake) and the talks, at around midnight, I had to say goodbye and got on my bus heading for Victoria. Amusingly the bus ride was not without drama which was what I feared but as it turned out was quite underwhelming. Just before Vauxhall Bridge some drunken guy tried to get on the bus with his girlfriend. He had just missed it but rather than wait for the next one he decided to force open one set of the back doors which in turn stalled the bus and meant we all had to get off and change. I really did think some of the other passengers were going to inflict violence on this young chap but I think by this time it was so cold that people just wanted to get where they were going.

I finally got to Victoria, found my coach and jumped on. I then spent the next 20 minutes watching the open luggage door like a hawk in case someone tried their luck with my large rucksack (by this time the ring was safely still in my pants pocket, digging in to my leg in such a way that made the vigil much easier). We then set off for Luton and I had 4 and a half rather uncomfortable hours on the departure lounge floor waiting for the check-in to start. I kept myself amused in these small hours with a by reading José Peixoto's Blank Gaze, Nigel Williams' The Wimbledon Poisoner and wondering about women who appear in the airport at 4 in the morning with immaculate hair and make-up.

The flight itself was pretty undramatic which as far as I'm concerned is definitely the best kind of flight. I failed to get more than a combined total of about 2 hours sleep in the entire day because sleep in public makes me really uncomfortable, I must've had some really cruel friends in the past.

I landed in Lisbon at about 9:30 and there was my love waiting for me in arrivals, I have to admit looking very nonchalant. I was a bag of nerves and rather dishevelled. My face covered in the ratty 2 day growth of stubble and as spotty as a teenager. All the stress of previous months has had the most unfortunate effect on my complexion. I was thankfully whisked away from the airport back home - something which felt totally natural and normal. I am really starting to see these streets as my own and I can't describe how good it is to see the large greeny-blue domes and red brick of Campo Pequeno. It really felt like everything had fallen into place and my heart could finally be at ease.

Whilst my heart was now at ease my body still had lots of work to do...the NYE party needed lots of work! Considering the fatigue I was now feeling it seemed a little rash to agree to host a party on the night I was arriving into the country but thankfully it had been arranged that me and S would provide starters and drinks and everyone else would bring the food. We prepared a few starters, some roast sweet potato, home made tuna pâte, hummus and other nibbles along with plenty of beer, wine, whisky and a surfeit of excellent caipirinhas, the tasting and perfecting of which got me and S very much in the party mood.

People arrived from around 8:30 onwards and some excellent food arrived with them, the dishes included pork with chestnuts, walnut rice, bacalhau with potatoes and mixed vegetables and then for desert there was a lovely chocolate tart, a strange cream and biscuit desert and a good sponge cake. The food went down very well and it was such a relief not to have to do all the cooking. One of favourite things about this relationship is the dinner parties we go to and throw ourselves but I think if I'd been forced to cook for 9 people I would've broken down at this point. Instead everything was very laid back and I felt totally guilty free having a couple of drinks.

After the food midnight came upon us and we all hugged and kissed and opened some champagne. We toasted the new year well and there was also wine enough to toast mine and S's engagement which I had mumbled my way through earlier in the day.

It was at this point that the real party started but I was unfortunately beginning to lag. My music had not been received with much enthusiasm thus far so I gladly lent the reins to DJ J and her party mix of the year. This was a real floor filler and soon my living room was a jumble of gyrating arms and legs with the men of the group sitting sullenly on the outside. R then had the bright idea of introducing a little karaoke to the proceedings...and so began the epic Drunken Soft Rock Karaoke 2009. No one was innocent, no one escaped but thankfully all audiovisual evidence has been hunted down and destroyed. After what some may have thought of as the defining version of You Give Love a Bad Name I could barely keep my eyes open and I retired to my new bed, ready to begin my new life in the morning.