The Thirty-First.

I’m sorry to start a New Year moaning, but I’ve seen so many babies this Christmas I feel I really have to say something about the state these children are in these days. I mean, who thought it was a good idea to put jeans on a baby? They don’t like them. They’re not comfortable. Makeup? Oh my word, what’s wrong with parents? Real piercings? Oh yes, quite common these days. Jewellery? It’s the worst of all. Babies spend most of their time flailing their arms. I don’t know how many times I’ve been hit in the face by a flying bracelet. What happened to babies in the onesies with little cardigans on and a bow in their hair? What happened proper prams with the big 12-inch spoke wheels and the bassinet facing the mother? Now we have this three-wheeled nonsense. Have you any idea how hard they are to move? I’m fighting to get this thing out of the door and the baby is staring at me as if to say ‘you complete ninny’. And don’t even get me started on what passes for a name nowadays.

As you can probably tell, I’m going to start twenty-twelve like every other year for the past nearly 22 years of my life. I don’t know what expect in 2012, I try to live each day as it comes and not really focus on the future too much. I’ve thought of life like this since I watched that documentary disproving time. No, it wasn’t Doctor Who. At least I don’t think that’s a documentary. It goes a little something like this. At the beginning of this sentence, the rest of the sentence was the future, but whilst that future was happening, it was becoming the past, so the past and future existed at the same time and completely negated not only the notion of future and past but also the notion of the present. That completely blew my mind. All we have is the present, man. When people tell me they are the opposite of myself, that they plan for the future and don’t live for the moment, I simply laugh in their faces and quite confidently exclaim “’tis no such thing as this future that you speak of, squire”. Sometimes one wonders if science can know too much.

However, we can see events that have gone by as history, and my personal history of twenty-eleven is one that I have completely forgotten. I know it was a damn site better than twenty-ten. My word that was a bleak year. Even the weather was bleak. Even bleak was bleak. Bleak was so bleak we had to invent a new word for the sheer bleakness of the bleakness. And that word was ‘super-bleak’. But then we had to change the word after it reminded us all of that terrible song. The new word we came up with is ‘Belgiumeqsue’.

Looking back at my posts, I discovered that I wrote about myself a lot this year. They were the posts that got the least hits, which only went to prove how desperately sorry my existence is [sob, sob – cue violin]. I also wrote about a little baby me, mum and dad started looking after. Aww, he’s canny (I feel a translation is in order: in some parts of the UK, ‘canny’ means ‘cute’). He really opened my eyes. Then I told him off for poking me in the eyes. He showed me that I’m really useless with children, but they seem to like me. I talked about crime. The cathedral had its lead nicked off the roof and I was robbed of 50 pence (just over one US dollar). That was a strange robbery to say the least. I went to Australia for my brother’s wedding and I gained a sister (in law), which I’ve always wanted. I was bullied again, but that’s just because I look like I’m 14. I almost got my eyes fixed but then I was told I couldn’t have it done. I moaned about the weather. Repeatedly. I did some retail training. And I went off the pot a few times. More than a few. Probably because I had more than a few.

So, what was the biggest change of 2011? Certainly, on a personal level, I would say this blog. It started out as a pet-project to gain some kind of acceptance and reaffirmation of my hidden humour, expression and extroversion, to prove who I am is perfectly normal, to try to regain at least some confidence that I once had, and I think I got there. The blog has flourished and grown into over 850 hits in only nine short months. All the visitors, likes and followers mean an awful lot. Although I never liked the term ‘followers’. Makes me sound like Jesus and I already look like him (minus the beard). For all the visitors, and I know this sounds corny, thanks so much. I always said one hit, just one person wanting to read what I have to say, would go a long way toward achieving my goals that I set out with at the beginning. But 850 plus. I couldn’t have imagined that anyone would have wanted to hear what a useless git with about as much writing talent as a chimp had to say.

And what of the blog originally designed as a yearlong pet-project that has now even spawned another little baby blog? Well, I’ve decided to keep the old girl going for a least another year. Oh yes, that’s my new thing. Referring to my blog as ‘old girl’. Don’t know why. Don’t think anyone cares.

‘New Year’s Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up anymore of my time’, said the late British diarist and critic James Agate.

Happy New Year :|:


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