31 days later…

January 11, 2009

Its been a while it must be said. I haven’t typed much of late.

But here we are, a new year. Me not posting my musings does not mean, contrary to popular belief, that the world will cease to turn.

Predictable, it has to be said. 2009 following 2008. I’m not gonna lie to you, I saw it coming. As early as October, I suspected that yes, another year will surely follow this one. Paddy Power refused to take my bet of course, claiming it was ‘preposterous’.

Ha, little did they know. Or perhaps, they knew too well. They saw the look in my eyes, the purpose in my stride. The way I pushed the old lady in front of me aside as I placed, nay, slammed my 20 euro note on the table, expressing my desire to bet on how I believed that a new year would follow the current year and that it would be in all likelihood be called, bizarrely, 2009.
Taken aback yes, by my wild opinions, my ridiculous notions, but intimidated by my confidence I suspect.

They wisely chose not to risk it. Preposterous? Well, who is the one looking on his calender in victory?

Ok, I lied there, I never got a calender.

So, I sit here. On my bed, poor posture, longing for a backrest. Thinking about the current year, what’ll it bring, what’ll it take. Will it arrive on our doorstep, saying “Here, mate, take this,” before running back down the road, leaving us clutching the new baby, the new job, the strange package that could be money, but could also be aids.
Or will it run up to us on the street, push us in the lower back and rob our clothes? Give us a kick up the arse for good measure.
The bastard.

I’m being metaphorical by the way. Were the Year an actual, physical being, I doubt it would even have legs, and our human clothes would be unlikely to fit it. And we would have the upper hand after all, doling out humourous quips about its alarmingly unoriginal name and old age.

Unless of course, the Chinese had it right. Then we’d be attacked by rats, lions and dragons and whatnot. Then, I suspect, nudity would be the least of our worries.

Who cares about being naked, when the Chinese were right abot something all along, giving rise to the possibility of them also being right about ‘democracy’, Tibet and all those medals that they didn’t cheat to get?

Oh yeh, and dragons. Yeh, dragons flying about would suck.