Sunday, 31 December 2017
2017 Draws to a Close...
Torrential rain, high wind and darkness ends the year. A year I am pretty glad to see the back off.
Glancing through my diary I note several birthdays, one visit from a niece, one trip to see her perform and vast amounts of money paid into Tesco's!
The rest of the year has been taken up with long term cold like symptoms that would never leave, and rusty knees that will never heal. Let joy continue! The intention to get slim and fit has failed and I have gone into reverse, indeed the ache from the fitness attempts remains with me still.
Good job I am not one to complain.
The Conservative government (If that is the word) continues to fumble no opposition bar the SNP exists, and the people, certainly many round this area, continue to accept the 'little englander' lies of the main tabloids. The political future looks grim.
Football wise, which is more important, the Heart of Midlothian are once again beginning to return to form. I expect glory any day now.
One bright spot in my miserable life that I never complain about is of course St Paul's church, the Anglican church that has now become a second home. The theology is often dubious, very Anglican in that way, but they wish to see God and seek him correctly. I am used to these secondary things that irk but even I am now expected to read a 'lesson' occasionally, such as I did today. The accent drew blatant racism from two ladies who ought to know better but considered this a reason for giggling like schoolgirls. I will get them back...
Hogmany today while magnified by the tourist board and local media is not what it was. In the 60's we went from house to house after midnight 'seeing in' the new year. It was a generally happy time in which drink flowed, people shook hands with strangers and all was delight. But in my mind and that of many others it is less happy these days. There is more of an edge, getting drunk for the sake of it, rather than the party these days. This is disappointing. Know doubt age does not help and many will enjoy their evening but far too any now remain at home, possibly asleep, when the midnight chimes chime and the overpaid telly hosts croak above the noise of fireworks. I might be one of them, those asleep, not the fireworks. I may find the mysterious bottle of Highland Park malt whisky that arrived yesterday must be put to the test first of course....