HAPPY New Year!

Was that turkey big enough in the end? Ours was so huge we had the equivalent of a small flock left over.

But that was okay because it meant the two enormous pork pies, the 15 slices of ham, the vol-au-vents, the mini sausages, the numerous cheeses (I can heartily recommend the smoked apple cheddar) and the mountain of sprouts had some company in the fridge.

I realise Christmas was a whole week ago - doesn't time fly when you're having indigestion? - but we are still eating the food and pulling the crackers (yes, we bought far too many of those too) so it still feels fairly festive.

But it is now time to pull the plug on the Christmas lights, wind them up carefully and neatly replace them in their box to be used again next December. Or, if your household is anything like ours, chuck them willy-nilly into a tangly-wangly pile and shove them into a far corner of the loft, where they will sit gathering dust and tying themselves into further unfathomable, impenetrable knots so that you are forced to throw them away and buy new ones next Chrimbo.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves. This is New Year's Day, and a new year means that it's time for us to indulge in new rigorous debates and philosophical discussions on the hot topics of the moment, such as global warming (an uncomfortably hot topic if ever there was one), the receding role of men in our increasingly matriarchal society, whether religion is losing its relevance in our modern, high-tech world and how much you would pay to go for a pee.

Let's start at the bottom and work our way up, shall we?

I remember a time when spending a penny was not just a phrase. You put your penny in the slot, did whatever it was you had to do, flushed and you were out of there.

But things have changed. The new year brings with it a new loo. And this isn't your average cold, cramped closet either. This is officially Britain's poshest public loo.

Now, Londoners who can't wait to park their posteriors on their own porcelain can nip into WC 1 and relieve themselves in luxury, for the luxurious price of £5 per pee.

The first clue that this is not your average loo comes when you are welcomed by a uniformed security officer (female - this is a women-only joint I'm afraid chaps) who points you in the direction of a reception area manned by four smiling women in crisp white uniforms handing out scented towels to wipe the city off your hands'.

The scent of fresh orchids and lilies fill the air, aromatherapy oils burn in every corner and soothing classical music softly wafts from discreet speakers.

The toilets are cleaned and sealed with a soft satin sash after every visit, and every cubicle has its own basin surrounded by freshly laundered towels, scented hand wash and hand cream.

There are also a vast range of cosmetics for visitors to make use of as well as mending kits should a button come loose, tights in case you get a ladder, umbrellas, toothbrushes, sanitary whatnots and deodorants.

It all sounds wonderful, but I just can't get past that £5 pee fee. Call me cheap if you like (I've been called worse), but I don't want to fork out a precious fiver and forgo a bottle of wine or a visit to the cinema just so women in white coats can listen to me widdle.

My advice, for what it's worth, is to nip into the nearest department store instead (Fenwick is my store of choice, in case you were wondering). Okay, so I tend to find myself buying six T-shirts, a pair of boots, three lipsticks and a sweater on the way out, but at least the loos are free.