Time’s rolling on, and that New Year speech of mine is still not ready for you-tube yet, but I don’t have the same staffing levels as her majesty. This has not been an annus horribilis for us, and none of our palaces has burnt down. In fact the teetering edifice which is our family life has made it through yet another year without major mishap.
My sweet H has made enormous quantities of very nice jam, some really good pickle and some quite disgusting pickle. In his hunter gatherer sort of way, he has brought home a quarter of a pig and half a lamb, both of which he was acquainted with before their demise. (The pig was living on straw, he said, and seemed to think that this was a good thing.) As a result of this, the freezers are full of obscure body parts that I cannot identify, and, even if I could, would not know how to cook without reference to cookery books with lots of very tiny print indeed and written by scary Victorian women in frilly aprons, “take one pig’s bladder, soak for six weeks in cider and stuff with finely chopped pancreas…”
Drummer boy has fallen in love, given a lot of drum lessons, played a lot of concerts, and annoyed the neighbours with his deafening drum practice. He has been worn thin by his spectacular social life “A night in? What does that mean?”
Darling D has briefly experienced green hair, given a party in our absence which shot her to fame amongst her peers, and watched an extraordinary amount of English television.
Porridge’s nose has become pink, and Kitty has expertly dismembered a mole, but not before it left 24 molehills in the lawn.
And what of me you ask? (If you have bothered to read this far...)
I have decided to retire from singing because no-one asked me to sing and then decided to sing again, because some one asked me to sing.
I have improved my piano playing (there was plenty of room for that).
I have started a novel, got stuck, and got restarted.
I have discovered blogging.
I have won a shiny cup with Porridge (OK, so it was cheap and nasty, I don’t care, it is still shiny and a cup).
I have ridden the bipolar fairground ride, sometimes with white knuckles, and not tampered with my brain chemistry in spite of tempting prescriptions from ignorant doctors.
I am 3 kilos overweight.
And I am still here.
I have only one resolution for 2008, and that is to be around to give another speech at the end of it.
2 hours ago