It's back to work / school / college (delete as appropriate) for many of you today. Or, if you are fortunate, tomorrow. For Mr B and for me, living a Life of Ease in Glorious Retirement, this is not something we need to
worry about. Life goes on, in its normal pattern - and occasionally, just occasionally, I think it might be refreshing to head back to work after a festive break spent eating and drinking far too much, armed with a clear sense of purpose to meet the challenges
I am realistic enough to remember, however, that the "New Year, New Me" feeling is unlikely to last much more than a day, especially when the top of the spare desk in the office will be invisible
under the mince pies, chocolate biscuits, cakes with reindeer on the top and tins of Quality Street which colleagues will have brought into the office in a bid to Share The Gluttony. This means, of course, that there will be no room for my own collection of
Christmas Naughties which I had hoped to offload - or, rather, spoil - my friends and colleagues. Ah, yes, I remember it well.
If I were still a Working Gal (and those working days seem ever more distant,
now we are into 2017) our kitchen surface would be clear of temptation in the shape of Glenfiddich mince pies, cinnamon stars, chocolate brownies and the like - though the situation at work would, of course, compound the problem.
Still how fortunate I am that I don't have to deal with thousands of emails, even supposing I could remember my password last used pre-Christmas and now lost in the Fog of Festive Forgetfulness, How fortunate not to have a diary full
of meetings arranged in Moments of Merry Abandon pre-Christmas which now look like I will need another holiday by the end of the week.
For many mums, including the Middle of the Darling Daughters, the start
of a new term will be most welcome, offering a chance to clear up the Christmas chaos without the requirement to entertain the Rampaging Rascal while doing so. The Twinkles, I am reliably informed, are well occupied with our present of matching wooden dolls'
cribs, handmade by that estimable local charity Men in Sheds. They could well be heirlooms of the future, I tell my daughter. The cribs, that is, not the Men in Sheds, don't be silly. She says this is doubtful unless the Twins stop clambering into the cribs
themselves and rocking from side to side, ignoring their poor dolls left to sleep uncomfortably on the bedroom floor.
For older students, the new term marks the start of Exam Season which hardly seems fair
to me. Who thought that one up, I wonder? I bet he or she has been chortling over the Christmas holiday at the thought of Bringing Everybody Down To Earth With A Bang.
Although not returning to a desk in a
busy office, on the general theme of New Year Thinking (as opposed to New Age Thinking which is altogether too, well, new age for me) I did update the Christmas Card List today.
Yes, indeed, you heard aright.
Didn't I realise, I hear you ask, that it is at least 48 weeks until I will need to consult it again? But, hey, why not? It is the third day of 2017 and time to live a little dangerously. Besides, Mr B is gently slumbering in his armchair, tired out from trying
to work out what is happening in the latest series of Sherlock. It would be very, very easy to close my eyes too...
But, no, I tell myself, I am made of Sterner Stuff. Once I am finished with the Christmas
Card list, I make a thrilling trip to the local recycling centre with four bags full of milk cartons, old newspapers, empty wine bottles and baked beans tins. Our recycling wheelie bin is full to bursting and won't be emptied until January 9th. It's the New
Year - I need a Clean Sweep
While I am enjoying myself posting empty packets and loo roll inner tubes through the slots in the massive blue recycling container, an ambulance with flashing lights dashes past
me, followed by a police car sounding an urgent siren.
I hate to think that someone's New Year may have been ruined by an accident, so soon into 2017. I will doubtless never know what, who and why - I can
only hope it's a false alarm, that the Unfortunate One will be back at work tomorrow complaining about the sheer number of emails to be answered and trying to avoid the post-Christmas spread of goodies.
have every finger crossed...