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What a year! What an incredible and infinitely long twelve months. That might just be because I wasn’t drinking though. Dry Jan-cember achieved. Now for dry Jan-uary.
2021 was bad for some people but apart from having cancer and chemotherapy, I thought it was OK. And honestly, many more positives than negatives from that experience, which not only feels like it was 100 years ago, but that it didn’t happen to me and that this is just a half memory based on a story I read in a book.
I end the year five kilos lighter than I started it (though I’d put on a bit more before I started getting fit), but annoying four kilos heavier than I was in the summer (though two of those have jumped on over the last fortnight). I have started a new health kick already and if I can stop feeling tired and ill I will get back to pounding the pavements in 2022.
Admittedly the year had one last kick in the ball, with the late (too late for inclusion of "who we have lost this year†lists) departure of Betty White - a fortnight short of her 100th birthday party. I was so sad that I couldn’t even make my perennial curse of the Golden Girls joke. And I am not ready to do it now. Apologies to those who’ve been waiting. I hope the party will go ahead without her. She still deserves her celebration. For me her finest moment is “More of my urine for me,†but you may have other favourites.
I have a feeling that 2022 is going to be a good year.
I will keep saying this every year and every year will be worse than the last, until the inevitable extinction of the human race. It’s weird to probably be here to witness that, but a privilege in a way. All those humans who have ever lived and we’re here for the end. It does make this blog being archived in the British Library a bit of a pointless honour though. But maybe a ragbag of mutated survivors will find it in 1000 years time. But be unable to read or have the electricity to turn on the computer. Ah well, hope you enjoy the weird squiggles if you somehow get in and the computer has a nuclear battery.
On the plus side, if there is not posterity then our lives will not be judged and our failures are unimportant. And we might all be siblings in death, so my Pat Sharp prediction is looking good. Knowing my luck I will die just before the extinction event and miss out on it.
I walked the dog up to the local wood this lunchtime. Amongst the trees and a good 250 metres plus from the nearest property and up a significant slope, someone had left a small bureau. It was not exactly dumped as it was carefully placed on its legs and facing outwards, as if placed there by squirrels for nut admin. It’s quite a nice area, but this is the most genteel fly-tipping I’ve seen. This item of furniture was small enough to break up and put in a wheelie bin and in good enough nick that if you left it on the pavement, so why someone had opted to carry it this far before leaving it is a mystery.
Of course I couldn’t resist looking inside for clues, even though I feared it was a booby trap. The drawer wouldn’t shift, but there was nothing in the top part. Hopefully a whole room’s worth of furniture will appear here over the next few days.
