The Cheesy Cacophony of Sherry Dreams


Here’s the story of family, 2015, and my testicles.

If you’re not covered in party popper innards by one minute gone midnight, you are clearly not having a good time. Of course, on a normal day, one wouldn’t be awake so frightfully late. Anytime after 10 is usually too late for me. Gee, the only time I ever go out after that hour is for Midnight Mass or family gatherings, which I don’t like because I don’t like… gatherings. Of course, it was New Year’s Day this week. 2015. We all go a bit crazy on New Year’s Day, don’t we? What with party poppers and… Ooh, yes – I ate an entire alcohol filled chocolate! About an inch long. Ah, living the life of Riley, I am…

The whole world seems to erupt into a cacophony of strangeness. It’s like that episode of Star Trek where everyone goes nuts at midday. “WOO! Time followed a linear fashion! Let’s get pissed!” Any excuse, really. Twenty-fifteen. Can’t believe it. This year, I’ll turn quarter of a century old. That’s not good. I’m six months away from being ridiculously old. What have I done in 25 years, huh? Never been kissed. Never had ‘a bit of how’s your father’. Never achieved anything of any note. Keep falling over. And through things. And setting things on fire that can’t possibly catch fire. This is what New Year’s Resolutions are for.

I’ve never seen the point in them, to be honest. “I’m gonna give up smoking on January 1.” Well, wonderful, but you can’t do it just like that. I clicked my fingers there, by the way. But, obviously, you didn’t hear that. I hope. I make a resolution every year to stop biting my fingernails but it never lasts. It’s an addiction, but nowhere near as bad as smoking. So I have no idea how smokers can give it up just like that. I clicked my fingers again, there. Gotta remember this is the internet…

Good on them, and everyone who decides to give something up or take something up. I had a dream the other day that I took up knitting. My dreams are dull like that. I had another dream the other day where I got on the bus on a grey and rainy day, had an uneventful journey, and got off the bus. Then I woke up. You know something must be wrong when even your dreams lack imagination.

I won’t take up knitting. It’s just the latest in a long line of weird cravings I’ve been getting lately. Starting to think I might be pregnant. But I obviously don’t have the requisite tools to conceive a child. Might be a sympathetic pregnancy. But I don’t know anyone who’s pregnant. Well, sister-in-law, but she lives in Sydney. Unless I got someone pregnant in my sleep. Like sleep walking but a heck of a lot more physical. Or maybe, just maybe, I was abducted by aliens and I got one of them pregnant after they harvested my testicles.

I think I need to lay off the sherry chocolates…

I don’t make plans for the future. 2015 is just a number, or a collection of four numbers, or if you pronounce it correctly, two sets of two numbers. I forget my point. I have no ambitions for this year. No self ones at least. I obviously hope that everyone makes it through happy and healthy and that I become an uncle to a bright, healthy and cheerful newborn baby nephew in March. I don’t really care what happens to me, as long as I make it to 2016 in one piece. Can’t get any worse, to be honest. Although I know God will find a way. He has a habit of doing that.

There weren’t many fireworks around where I live because of high winds. Which were only beneficial for the Catherine Wheel. Regular ones would have flown into other people’s gardens. That happened once. It was the back garden of the house where I grew up. Miss that place. Burnt a patch of the grass. I’ve been saying for years they should ban them from public use, but everyone keeps calling me an old Grinch, so sod complaining. Aloud. I’ll just do it here, instead. Moan, moan, moan…

I’ve celebrated New Year’s Day the same way for 24 years. With mum and dad. Right before the celebration, the youngest, me, heads outside with old coal, bread, money, and tinfoil. All of ours are over 40 years old. It was dear departed granddad’s tradition, after all. And on the stroke of midnight, mother and father open the door, letting me in with the New Year and hopefully good tidings. And there’s hugs, merriment and toasts with our glasses – dad’s filled with port, mine filled with coke, and mother’s filled with that most Christmassy of beverages – sangria. She loves her sangria. Brought back four bottles from Ibiza. 63 in two weeks, by the way. Off to Amsterdam for her birthday. She’s told me she can’t wait to see if cannabis really does help with arthritis…

I really do hope you all had a great celebration and that you have a great 2015. Try to stick to those resolutions, readers. Be happy. Be sure to say hello to a quiet and shy person – we really appreciate it, even if we don’t reciprocate, it means a lot to know that someone bothers to acknowledge we exist. Let’s hope this year is less violent. We all pray for peace. And, I know it sounds cheesy and I don’t do cheesy very often on account of how cheesy it is, but follow your dreams. There are no boundaries in life, only obstacles that cloud your vision. And you don’t need eyes for clarity.

If there’s a message of 2015, it’s a simple one.

Be wonderful to each other.

Oh, and for the love of God, will someone buy me more sherry chocolates…

British comedian, Thomas Cooper (1921-1984), once said: “Police arrested two kids yesterday, one was drinking battery acid, the other was eating fireworks. They charged one and let the other one off.”

Happy New Year :|:

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the title on the top of this post if you are on the archives page. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks.

Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other two blogs:

To Contrive & Jive
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post

Hark Around the Words
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post


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