Friday, 31 December 2010
You're My First, My Last, My Everything
Bloody hell it's like the January sales in (or is it on?) the bloggosphere. Everyone's doing the last post of 2010.
I wasn't going to: was going to rise above the crowd, keep my powder dry for some devastating observation, opinion or witticism at an opportune moment. But I've been caught up in the clamour..and now I have to say something.
Recapping the year, that's usually ok. I mean if it weren't for recaps where would the media be. Blank pages, screen and silent air ways that's where. Then I thought a pithy post - a few words accompanied by a cultured photograph - grainy black and white.
Or a fav song as a way of summing up the year. "I Did It My Way": "Morningtown Ride": "Relax" - something significant.
Frankly I'm at a loss. Besides getting a cheque for £115 from ScottishPower as a parting gift after we moved to E.ON nothing much has happened to single out this 31st December from the other sixty three I've experienced. That's not strictly true.The first was decidedly messy and pooey ( the spell-checker keeps trying to change it to phooey - get a life Google!) .
What about New Year's resolution. That's a good stand by. What do I want to achieve in 2011. To make 2012? That's that sorted.
But don't I have any dreams, ambitions which are as yet unfulfilled? That novel I've always promised I'd read. What about "À la recherche du temps perdu". I've plenty of time. Or Clarissa, that should see me shake off this mortal coil. A valiant endeavour no doubt but since I can't get past page 5 of the Beano annual without difficulty I think I'll give grand literature a miss.
What about the theatre. Surely there's a play or a film I haven't seen but would truly, madly,deeply love to . A Hamlet, Lear or Tempest. What about an Ibsen or a Steinberg? A Cher film?
A piece of music. An opera, a musical, a pop song for God sake!
Nope, it's not working. I'm seriously dreamless and unambitious for 2011 or any year thereafter for that matter.
And it all the fault of her in doors. We are our comedy, our literature, our melody and our favourite destination. We laugh each day,each hour, each minute. Our badinage makes Hancock seem amateur. In her face I read a Shakespearean sonnet in every line. The less said about our melodies the better. And every compass points to her.
Each moment is timeless and time is meaningless. So what need to mark the end of one year and the beginning of the next.
May 2011 be a good year whatever your wishes and dreams.