It always bemuses me, when one ventures into supermarkets during the period between Christmas and New Year, that the ‘special offer’ shelves are filled with cleaning products. What weird marketing theory is that all about? Is it that the Great British Public falls into slatternly behaviour during the festive season and it is now imperative we crack open various bottles and sprays of disinfectant/bleach/surface cleaners and tackle our dark and dank crevices and corners in preparation of welcoming the New Year? (Mention the words ‘crevice nozzle’ - as in the vacuum cleaner attachment - to Lord Malarkey and he will snigger and titter like a school boy finding a rude word in a dictionary. No idea why.)
Anyway, I haven’t stocked up on cleaning products because a) I like to think I keep a relatively clean and tidy house already and b) I have too much important reading and writing to do at the moment.
Nell and I have today completed the reading of this:
‘Tackle!’ by Jilly Cooper. I am a big fan of Jilly Cooper. She writes a rollicking easy-read story and her possible over-use of the word ‘ravishing’ always amuses me. I believe she is 86 years old now. I plan to be writing rollicking reads when I am in my 80s, too. Of course, I’m never sure which turn my longevity will take. My father’s side of the family weren’t very good at living beyond their 50s to mid-60s. However, my Mum’s side pretty much all make it into their 80s. Could go either way, really. I read recently that longevity is 20% genetics and 80% lifestyle. I think, then, I’ll continue on with the vegetarian diet, regular exercise, teetotal, no smoking/drugs/extreme sports plan and keep my fingers crossed.
As old habits die hard, I’ve given some thought to what I might do in 2024. It’s mostly learning new stuff. Learning new stuff has distracted me through the last two years which have been peppered with an unfair share of unpleasant events BUT what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger (what an idiotic phrase, eh?) and I like to think I’ve come out the other side wiser, stronger and inclined no longer to put up with other people’s shizzle. Or being told what to do either.
Possible ‘to do’ list for 2024 thus far includes:
1) learning where more of the planets and constellations are in the night skies. I can identify Orion and Scorpio with ease, and I always say ‘Good Morning!’ to Venus when I’m up the garden in the dark trying to follow where Nell is doing her morning poo so I can clear it up so I won’t tread in it later in the day. But I want to be able to look up at the stars and say, ‘Oh look! There’s Betelgeuse!’ Stuff like that.
2) learning a new language. Either Italian or Latin. In case I meet any Italians or Ancient Romans.
3) practising the piano keyboard so I can bounce around confidently like Jules Holland in a pub somewhere and encourage people into a singalong! That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?
4) expand my repertoire of Pilates and maybe add some yoga moves. I could call it Poga. Or Yolates!
I might do these things. I might not.
What I am DEFINITELY going to do is enter a load of writing competitions. And self-publish a couple of novels. I half-promised myself I was going to do this in 2023 but then a small ginger-Ninja puppy dog got in the way and stole not only a lot of tea towels, socks and cushions, but a heck of a lot of my time, too. I’ve told her that now she is officially an adult dog, then calm and moderate behaviour is the order of the day and she is no longer the boss of my time. I think she understood.
I shall continue to read as much as I can. I read fifty four books this year which was slightly disappointing (I refer you to the puppy-dog time vampire) so intend to crack that number in 2024. Fifty five books, then. I’ve got three sitting on the bedside table that I received for Christmas, so will be off to a fine start tomorrow.
The Big Garden Project for 2024 will be a) to expand and reconfigure the fruit cage. The raspberry canes need replacing, the currants and blackberries need organising, the gooseberry bush probably needs to go, and b) to add loads more herbs into whatever areas I can lever them into. However, because it started raining in July and hasn’t really stopped since, the Malarkey Manor estate is somewhat boggy at the moment so there won’t be much gardening occurring until someone pulls the plug and a bit of serious draining happens. Oh, the joys of being on clay!
Six and a half hours to go, then, until we wave ‘Cheerio!’ to 2023 and ‘Hello Hotpants!’ to 2024. I shall reflect on the few good moments and happy times that were had in ‘23, and forget about the rubbish times because it’s all in the past now and there’s no point stewing over things that happened but are now over. I doubt I’ll be awake to welcome in 2024. Going to bed past midnight makes me grouchy the next morning and as Lord Malarkey and I are meeting up with friends for a New Year’s Day walk and lunch date and Mrs Grouchy won’t be welcome, it’ll be bedtime as usual for me.
Enjoy the fireworks if you like that sort of thing. Enjoy your singing and dancing party if you like that sort of thing, too. Or enjoy your cosy night in with friends/family/the cat/ cheese and biscuits if that’s what makes you happy instead. Each to their own, then - and peace to all.
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KJ