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That’s original, isn’t it? I’m not sure of the significance of the New Year in the western Gregorian calendar – that is, I’m not even sure if we start in the right place. And how far do you count back? I mean, do you start with Jesus, because wasn’t he born somewhere around April, or something, or do you go right back to Adam and Eve? Can someone tell me when fig leaves are in season? It is refreshing at least to acknowledge that the grand old tradition of getting abominably pissed and stuffing ourselves silly has a reliable foundation: the feast of the winter solstice is far older than Christianity and far more logically anchored – the last opportunity to use up the fresh produce from the fields before we all had to endure three months of pemmican and pickles on our way to spring.
Personally, I attach more importance to Chinese astrology: their New Year is not for some time yet,and involves lots of tempting things like fireworks and dragons: I, by the way, was born in a year of the Dog, which may explain my attitude to lamp-posts and my slightly eccentric manner when approaching the opposite sex.
New year’s resolutions? Well, I’ve become of an age when my only firm resolution is a determination to get to the next New Year. Maybe this year someone will recognise my talent – maybe this year somebody will scrape the dust off this blog and actually read it?
A brave new year to you, if you’re out there.
Shrinking my head over a title! Why do books have to have titles? I hate them! Am I alone in this? Hate them, hate them, hate them!
Why can’t I just precis the whole book on the front cover? Ugh!