For this morning's New Year post I have decided that, having moved on from self pity to self absorption, I may as well step up to self regard. (I will probably do do self aggrandizement tomorrow.)
Did you know that I am so remarkably cool that back in the late nineties I spent the New Year at Jake's in Jamaica?
Jakes is a small boutique resort on the South of the island frequented by people like Lennox Lewis, Adam Clayton, Annie Lennox and me.
It's managed by the charming, efficient yet - due to patois, and at least to my ears - incomprehensible Jason Henzell - "nuff tings a gwan, respec', my brother".
The property has been extended from a beach house on a few acres owned by his bohemian parents, Perry Henzell, the director of 'The Harder They Come', and Sally Henzell, a set designer.
I could write about it for hours, but tempus fugit. What particularly brought it to mind this week was the New Year's Eve party. At the stroke of midnight, several guests produced hand guns and started firing live ammunition into the air by way of celebration. No one seemed to bat an eyelid, although you could have knocked me down with a feather. (If it had happened this year, by way of contrast, at the The Old Barn Inn on the outskirts of Swansea I wouldn't have been surprised at all.)