February at last

I’m back.

Xmas was lovely, warm and foreign with Cornflake, Frenchie, P, their cats and their dog Luli, it seems an age ago.

I’ve now crawled out from under the new year.

I’ve come to realise that I shut down annually between the winter solstice and early February. My work schedule this January has seemed unnecessarily cruel. Obviously I should be hibernating, or at least at home, on our sofa, doing nothing but watching box sets, eating Xmas leftovers and chocolate. This year I haven’t had that luxury.

If I ruled the world, I would move the time of year that marks its beginning and its end. As it stands the new year starts with a drudge. How many days are there in January? 31, just 31, it’s unbelievable, especially around the 21st. Let’s start the new year in Spring, mid March when all things in nature perk up including me.

Anyhow, here I am, another year older, no thinner, still no tattoos, lots of new stuff but a bit flumpy.

Since I was last here I’ve been too dull for my mind to wander. I say my mind didn’t wander but at one point, pre hols, it had buggered off completely. My vocab was reduced to; blah, urm, thingamy, oh you know, whatsit, umm, uuuh, blah blah, no not that, the other thing.

Post election shock syndrome I think.

On a positive note, I find that December and January are great for gift buying, I start by looking for gifts for others but mostly buy gifts for myself. Self-gifting is so easy, I really know what I like. The Main commented on one purchase, whoever bought you that, really knows you well. I’d like to think so. Some people say that it’s better to give than to receive, I remain unconvinced by that notion, but, simultaneous giving and receiving is unquestionably fabulous.

My favourite me-gift is a bracelet that spells out, in morse code, in silver seed and bugle beads, fuck it. It suits my present state of mind perfectly. People comment on it, it’s so pretty, they say, and it is. I wish I could just say, thank you, but I can’t, I have to tell. I’ve also purchased a necklace that says in black resin, swirly script, sanctimonious leftoid cunt. It’s a fact but I doubt anyone will read it. When it arrives, I’ll wear it with pride and I’ll get to see who’s paying attention. I’ll really try not to tell, in case people think it’s a comment on them and they don’t understand that if it was a comment on them, it would be a compliment.

I’m glad that I’m not tattoo crazy, I may well have grown to regret those bits of profane, wordiness if they were permanent …. in a potential future…. in a possible nursing home.