An English New Year’s Eve
When the clock struck midnight on 31st Dec, I was standing on a hillside in south-west England with my old war-time buddy Ant and his wonderful wife Harriet. Around us some of their friends had gathered, sipping whisky out of hip flasks, or swigging champagne from plastic cups.
All around the grass was encrusted with hoar-frost, and the rutted track up t…