Sunday, 1 January 2017

A new year..

New Year, new start and to help me do that I’m going to start furiously peddling away at that blogging wheel again. Who knows it may even help me lose a little weight.

I've always fancied myself as a bit of a hamster even though I’m probably more rat than cuddly puffy-cheeked fur ball of fun. In the past it was my blog that sustained me when all else failed and last year - through circumstances beyond my control – I neglected to recognise that I may need it more than it needs me. Besides, despite what some people occasionally think (including myself) I am not Jesus - although the water to wine thing would come in really handy sometimes.

So New Year, new blog and I’ve got this yearning to make it a bit more of a diary. Of course me being me it’s unlikely to be totally factual and - although I like to shop -  a daily entry of: ‘Went to Aldi and bought three bottles of red for tonight’ is likely to quickly become a bit repetitive. Still I can give it a go and if you don’t like it I’m sure that you’ll let me know.

I saw the New Year in more to say ‘bugger off’ to the old one than to welcome the new, so I didn’t get up until eight-thirty on this rainy New Year’s Day morning. I have to say the New Year didn’t feel that much different to the old year, but then does it ever? Perhaps it takes a while for it to kick in and it is Sunday apparently which is always a slightly empty day with only Antiques Roadshow to look forward to. So it’s Sunday bloody Sunday and New Year’s Day all in one and it’s likely to be as boring as the New Year’s Days of my childhood - although I’m sure that Bono (a survivor of God's 2016 pop idol cull unfortunately) would approve.

My early morning plan to go for a five kilometre run had to be delayed due to the rain and lack of suitable footwear and the gym isn’t open today, so I’ll join tomorrow. I had planned a nettle shake for my dinner but apparently we are having roast turkey with all the trimmings and (not wishing to start the New Year on the wrong foot) I found myself reluctantly acquiescing to partake or face the wrath of MCW (my charming wife).

Meanwhile MLD (my loving daughter) is probably comatose in her bedroom after spending New Year’s Eve playing games on one of those console things with her beau and may not emerge until Tuesday. Just what’s wrong with celebrating New Year’s Eve in a normal way I ask you? We do have a very large TV and Jools Holland does a very good Hootenanthingy – so who needs really Rambuster III, Zombie Ashopalypse with bells on?

Talking of television I need a cunning plan to detract MCW from finding out that Dirty Dancing is on Channel 5 yet again this afternoon. Much as I am a Patrick Swayze fan (once bearing more than a passing resemblance to him before I gained a few pounds and decided to go grey) I’m not sure that I want to hear him warning people not to put baby in the corner because whenever I hear it I inadvertantly hear Arnold Schwarzenegger saying that immortal line for some reason and not Patrick Swayze at all. Perhaps I can create a diversion. Set fire to the kitchen maybe?

Happy New Year’s Day all – see you later droogs.

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