I know it's cheesy (sorry, this message was written ages ago: now it's just plain late), but here's a millenium despatch anyway.
I don't know where everyone was for the allegedly momentous event, but I trucked down to London, primarily because the fireworks contained enough explosives to keep the US space programme in launches for the next decade or so, and they were threatening to have a four-mile wall of flame along the thames. Lovely. Of course, as with all such things, there were the people to contend with: Firstly there was me, who (being me) had left everything to the last minute - the plan eventually became that I would probably meet up with a few people. Needless to say this didn't happen, but I did meet some very nice people, so that was alright. Secondly there were all the other people to deal with... lots of other people. I started off by the London Eye (not working) looking across the river towards Big Ben (fixed that morning) I got bored and decided to go over to the north bank of the Thames.
Every single bridge was closed though, and the crowds were so big that it wasn't so much walking as being swept along. Eventually I made it back to where I'd started, where it was so packed that I didn't bother trying to get in, so I continued east, hoping to find a bridge, but I ended up at Royal Festival Hall and stayed there. Apparently, Westminster bridge had been shoulder-to-shoulder from the afternoon on, so I never really stood a chance: Embankment tube was packed with people trying to leave at quarter-to-eight. It was something. The streets were packed - we were in the strange position of walking on the road itself, something never usually possible in London, which has traffic problems at one in the morning on a usual day.
Anyway, two-and-a-bit hours of waiting at RFH were actually worth it. The fireworks were like nothing I've ever seen: they towed a barge between each of the bridges between Tower bridge and Vauxhall, and on the stroke of midnight they began a synchronised fireworks display the like of which I have never seen. There were so many fireworks that at times the air-bursts were obscured by the smoke, which probably won't have cleared by next new year's eve. It wasn't impressive just because of the quantity of fireworks, but the display was really beautiful: theme, variations, colours, pattern, transitions. There were a couple of scared pigeons performing evasive manoeuvers over Festival Hall, wheeling and diving - they didn't know what had hit them and they didn't know where to go. I doubt that many pigeons are showing their faces in London today. In five years time those pigeons will be telling their grandchildren about their time in London, about their buddies who took shrapnel to save the flock, about seeing the whites in Tony's eyes.
The Tube was overwhelmed, as were local Rail services. After a few false starts looking for Tube stations that were open I wound up walking to Paddington station, to Hyde Park corner, up Park Lane and past Oxford Street - through massive crowds, that gradually began to thin the further I got up towards Paddington. On Edgeware road a few shops were still open (at quarter-to-three). That was strange, although it is London, and London is fairly strange. The train from Paddington was packed - presumably because despite being three in the morning no one had managed to make it out from central London until then...
I suppose it was all pretty momentous really. And my computer's still working (though apparently New Zealand lost their phones for an hour or two) (weeks later update - they lost their international lines because everyone was calling to find out whether they were alright... doh!). Hurrah. Not only that, but I cooked Christmas dinner for my parents, and it all went rather well (Thanks to Nigel Slater for writing good cookery books)...
I can't help feeling that Nan would have thought that everyone was making an awful fuss about the whole thing.
Matt