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New Year 2012

At last year’s New Year bash in the ballroom at the hotel, had two 
hundred guests, this year 45 guests and the room was chilly and 
had melancholic echo of yesteryears.  A luxury liners’ last voyage, 
ready to be chopped into bit and sent to the voracious furnaces 
of China’s  famished thirsts for steel.
 And we, the 45, where stalwarts from bygone epoch the last of 
a shrinking middle class. Too many waiters, too many cooks, they 
knew what was coming next, the dole. Who needs a flat footed 
waiter or a cook you can’t teach new tricks? 
Twelve o’clock we toasted one another but our joy rang hollow in 
the big room.  The party was supposed to continue till four in 
the morning as it had before, most guests left quarter past twelve; 
I can only hope the crew, we dastardly deserted, drank the wine 
ate food we left behind and had a proper wake.

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