New Year's Eve in a Dorset village

I woke up this morning, drooling on my pillow like Patsy from Ab Fab.

My hair was sticking up on one side and a trail of clothes led to the bed. I can't find my coat and I hope it's still in the pub.

Some weeks ago, Ding Dong Daddy asked me to help him out with the disco in the pub on New Year's Eve.

It wasn't exactly like this, but not dissimilar.

All afternoon, Ding Dong Daddy and I worked in separate houses, putting our playlists together. Messages pinged back and forth, a conversation on Twitter included Caitlin Moran, the writer Marian Keyes favourited one of my tweets and the violinist with the Smashing Pumpkins and I had a bit of joshing on Facebook.

Things could only get better...

Well, Ding Dong Daddy and I played back-to-back. I sneaked in Siouxsie and the Banshees, followed Tom Jones with Tom Jones, peaked too early with The Monkees, got back in the game with Lady and Sing It Back and then emptied the dance floor with James Brown's Think. It took I'm Every Woman to get them bopping again. Works every time.

And everyone kept bringing the DJs drinks, causing me to crash a few intros but, heck, no-one apart from Ding Dong Daddy noticed.

And then it was Hi Ho Silver Lining and out in the square for Auld Lang Syne.

 And then it was back into the pub for another hour, wrapping it up with a bit of Doris.

Today, we're in the pub again for a late breakfast before heading to friends at Lyme Regis and a brisk walk along Marine Parade for some New Year thinking.

That's about it.

Love Maddie x