New Year almost upon us…
A big thank you today to the good people at United Utilities, who sent me a water bill last week, then came to read my meter two days later. This splendid bit of common sense resulted in them having to send me another bill, which wiped out the £145 credit heaped onto me in the first one and imposed a £297 debit in its place. All of which I doubtless accrued in the past three weeks since discovering how to turn the power setting on the shower onto full blast. I have spent much of the intervening time testing it out.
So that little bit of thievery from UU has darkened my mood today, as has an unavoidable and deeply unpleasant excursion to the Trafford Centre. I managed to park only six or seven miles from the front door, and joined the 140,000,000,000 other people swarming around there looking for a sales bargain. I didn’t find one, but did spend lots of unnecessary pounds on things which I fleetingly thought would make me happy but which I now know will simply add greater depth to the spiritual black hole which yawns like a gaping chasm at my very core. It was never a banker that I might find salvation in HMV.
So my Christmas holidays meander to a depressing close. Work on monday is about as appealing as sticking my arm in a threshing machine. I have a great job, don’t get me wrong. I just like not doing it. There is still new year’s eve to look forward to of course, but I always find that an evening specifically given over to the forced contemplation of the passing of another year during which dreams remain unaccomplished is hardly a cause for smiles all round. It’s the one festival of the year which I just don’t get. We’re a bit older (which is bad) and here’s the undeniable proof; drinks are thrice the price they normally are (which is bad); it’s colder than a naked hike through the Arctic tundra outside (which is bad); and the taxi home will charge a thousand pounds before we’ve moved an inch (which is bad). And yet people are still waving their arms in the air at midnight like maniacs. Crazy stuff.
I am spending the evening this year in the company of a child who is 7 weeks old, so whilst its mother and my girlfriend whoop at midnight, letting off party-poppers and wearing glasses which spell out “2009″ in glitter, I can seek solace with someone who doesn’t have the foggiest idea what the concept of a new year is.
Until and beyond then though, there are ward and Council matters to attend to. I’m sure that the cold snap that we’re now in the midst of will see the gritters out protecting the roads. If you’ve got a grit bin at the end of your street, make sure it’s topped up, and if it isn’t then let the Council (and/or me) know to get it fixed. And don’t forget that even in this quiet time of year over the holidays, I and the other local Lib Dem councillors in St Mary’s would be glad to assist with any problems or issues you have. Please do just get in touch. Particularly if it’s five to midnight on new year’s eve, as dealing with a call as the clock strikes twelve will give me the perfect opportunity to avoid contemplating time’s unstoppable march towards something which I imagine involves fire and brimstone.
Rick
3 Comments
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Are you being entrusted on your own with this small child. Can you change nappies and wind babies what will you do if she wakes up. Is this poor child going to survive the night, should you not perhaps have some previous experiance before being let lose. Not that I am trying to scare either you or the mother!
The mother will be there, watching like a hawk throughout.
I’ve been trying to work out how a pair of glasses which spells out “2009″ works…
Surely, this will seriously impair vision in the left eye? If you are intent on wearing such
things yourself Richard, take great care if administering a bottle of milk to that baby.
Still - it must be marginally better than the equivalent glasses for last year, so things
can only get better!
Spurs Man (and his other half) would like to wish you, your long-suffering political “widow”
Tammy, commentors to your blog like “Julie Baum” (made-up name??), “Daniel”, et al - a very
happy New Year. Oh, and of course, little Mac (or Tripod, as you once referred to the feline
fur ball). And of course, to the millions of other avid readers of your political and not-so-
political musings.
I note with sadness that “a non-Doctor” has not commented in a while. However, I will be
seeing him this evening (we rendezvous opposite the London Eye at around 11.50pm), and
will have a quite half-hour chat with him then.
You’ve made me laugh for yet another year - keep up the good work!!
Have a great one!