I don't even know why I'm bringing this up. I mean, REALLY now. But alas, here it is, an old ticket that proves there was a party, eight years ago, on a razed sugar cane field in Ballito. That I may or may not have attended. The jury is still out.

The pieces that I can put together, whether they are my own experiences or someone else's, paint a picture of drunken debauchery, mud, blaring boot music, fights, threesomes involving two guys (none of them being myself – I'm pretty sure on that), under-age kids and a lot of rain.

And someone got killed. Shot dead, as far as I can remember.

It's not that it's a bad party per se, the ingredients are there for a rip-roaring time; it's just that as we mature past puberty the prospect of lying drunk in the sludge at 5:00am on the 1st of January starts looking less and less attractive, and the thought of spending New Year's at home watching “Dinner For One” becomes an increasingly appealing option.

So I have no more comment on that. Do they still have those parties? Does anyone go? Or heaven forbid, does anyone let their children go? Maybe they've re-invented themselves as a clean family-friendly event, and I'm being unnecessarily harsh.

Somehow I doubt it.

Anyway, 2006 is nearly over, and with that, it's time to start planning the big one. Or not-so-big one. It's the dreaded question that's on everyone's lips, it's an overused conversation padder, the great nagger at the back of your head: “What are you doing for New Year's?”

We all ask the question, but sometimes it's impossible to answer until you know for definite what everyone else is doing first. Then pick the biggest jol, and hit it!

So go on, tell us. You go first.