The temperature was -3, the streets pretty empty, and only a fool could be dancing around in the middle of a serious cold snap without their shirt on this New Year's Eve.
You've guessed it, I was that fool. I guess sometimes people expect you to live up to your reputation.
Early in the afternoon Smashy had predicted to fellow Meeja Wales inmates that this would come to pass. Clairvoyant? I don't think so. The fact that I overheard this conversation must have stuck in my mind because however much I told myself that this New Year I would definitely not be shedding my clothing, a nagging little gnome inside me was saying: "Go on, go on, go on." Or maybe it was Withers. To tell you the truth I can't remember.
And it had all started off so sedately, too. The great and the good had gathered in The Yard at about 6.30 to warm up for the big event. Smashy, The Fugitive, the Baker Boy (once again visiting Cardiff for his holidays), Danny Boy "the poipes, the poipes", the Wonderful One, the Prince of Darkness and Mad Liz were all on hand for the occasion.
Later, Paps was to join us. He was thinking himself a picture of sartorial elegance in his pinstriped suit jacket and jeans until a cool dude came in dressed in the same manner, but topping it off with a superb pork pie hat. It was only right to comment on this fashion faux pas.
"Not many people can carry off a pinstriped jacket with jeans," I said, pointing to the cool dude. "He can." Poor Paps looked crestfallen.
Not feeling at my best by that point I decided to indulge in a port and brandy, which a mate told me a long time ago had certain medicinal qualities. By the time I reached old O'Neill's I was well into the swing of things.
And finally it was on to the City Arms to see in the New Year with DJ Jase, "Senses Working Overtime", discarded shirt and cardboard pirate hat. The Prince, too, was in full flow with some limbo-style wowy wowy dancing while Smashy could quite easily passed for a TV Cop (anyone remember Cannon?) in his cardboard police cap. Apparently there are pictures, but I've yet to see them and am dreading the moment.
Believe it or not, I was home by 12.30. Unlike some.
Rumour has it that the Prince, fearful of oversleeping when he was due in to work on New Year's Day, stayed out all night just so that he could turn up for work on time. What a trooper!
For me, New Year's Day was spent lying on the couch, watching an inane series of TV programmes mainly featuring Poirot and Miss Marple (with a James Bond thrown in somewhere) and thinking I could never feel so bad again, but knowing that I probably will.