About Me

Sunday 31 December 2017

Slipping through to the next year

For many years I stood on the cusp of the Old Year and The New and believed I was slipping through the time zone to a better place. I no longer believe this. For years, I fought this knowledge in a bid to avoid cynicism but it has nothing to do with cynicism: it's just the putting aside of misplaced romanticism.

Things may get worse, better, duller, madder.    The world will still be full of lunatic politicians - Mr Trump stand up. Isis style terrorists, bigots, poverty, greed, bollocks, bog standardness,  mediocrity - you name it-it ain't going away. Somewhere a production team are working on next year's 'I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here.'

That doesn't mean I don't believe in the good, or God, or real possibility.  It isn't a case of either or. The glass isn't half full or half empty. It is just a glass with liquid. Wine, water, gin, cold tea, the elixir of life. At least I have a tap, a tea bag, a few bottles, central heating and a fire, even if I don't posses the secrets of the universe. (What would I do with that anyway?)

When I cross the line in the time zone into 2018  and watch the fireworks explode over the Lancashire plane, all I really face is a mixture of the familiar and the unknown. It's more than enough.


 Happy New Year.