I thought nothing could ever rival Paris as a venue for New Year celebrations.
For several years in the 1980s I spent the occasion in the French capital, and it was always sublime. As ever in France, there was always a touch of class to outdo dreary old London in the new year festivities.
The custom in Paris is "réveillon", a night of feasting and frolicking that begins in a restaurant around 10pm, and finishes whenever the revellers, and the kitchen staff, are too exhausted to continue.
Dish after succulent dish is served throughout the wee small hours, interspersed with drinks and dancing to a live band.
Come 4am or so, only the hardiest are left standing, and the survivors band together in a kind of brotherhood to visit other réveillon venues, returning to base at dawn to gather their belongings, hand over a chunky tip to the serving staff, and head off into the start of New Year's Day - to sleep.
But Dubai this year seemed to have outdone the Parisian experience. I spent the evening in the Madinat Jumeirah, with my wife and young daughter, and some friends.
For my little girl, four-year-old Amira, it was her first new year celebration, having hitherto been too small to enjoy it, or endure it.
Outside on the terrace at the Madinat, they had got the réveillon formula off perfectly. A band played on a stage erected in the canal, the place was packed, and legions of serving staff just kept the food and drinks coming. Paris by the Arabian Gulf.
I know that Burj Khalifa further up the road in Dubai, and the Emirates Palace in Abu Dhabi, have the grandest fireworks show as the clock ticks over midnight, but as far as I know Jumeirah beach is the only one where you can watch three spectacular displays at once: the Madinat, Burj Al Arab and Atlantis hotel on the edge of the Palm all put on extravaganzas of their own, and all are visible from the Madinat shore.
Fireworks make children of us all, but it was beautiful to see my little girl's face, open mouthed in wonder, as the torrent of fire just kept on coming from the barges which were moored invisibly out to sea.
The French say that if you do the full réveillon, you always make at least one new friend who will remain so for life. I don't know about that, but I always seem to come across somebody famous.
I once wished Mick Jagger a "happy new year" in the Café de la Paix in Paris, and before that had shaken hands with Bobby Moore, the captain of England's World Cup winning football team, in a Soho bar.
So, having had our fill at Madinat, and with Amira getting tired, I was just a little disappointed as we left the hotel that I hadn't met any celebrities. Then I spotted a hero of mine: Roman Pavlyuchenko, the former striker for my football team, Tottenham Hotspur, now playing for Lokomotiv Moscow.
I shook his hand, told him what a great player he was and asked why he left, and then tried to introduce him to Amira.
But too late. The little darling had made it to 2am, but was now fast asleep in my arms with her head on my shoulder.
