looking back for xmas pt1
Time, one is wont to note, flies when you’re having fun. Is it nearly a year since last Xmas already? The answer of course is “yes!” Well didn’t that just fly by? The answer of course is “dear God no.”
Actually, the movement of time is a strange thing, time is a vari-speed creature; it seems to crawl with painful slowness through the days and weeks and months but a whole year can evaporate in a flash. Last Xmas does feel like only yesterday, even if April or July or even October appear, in comparison, to be many more light years distant.
All of which is by way of ruminative introduction to this annual round-up and review of the year and its loose ends. At least those that concern me and my small coterie - I say small, but in this weather my coterie is actually quite large and fleece lined and I am very grateful for it!
Of course winter with its short days and long nights encourages melancholy - and the earlier months which one may have greeted with enthusiasm naturally fade into the distance. The road from there to here (or I should say ‘now’) may have been Long and Winding (as the song says) but it has also been bastard bumpy and it is with mixed feelings that one scans back along the highway of life and notes the achievement of making it thus far across such difficult terrain.
In doing so, I must (albeit without enthusiasm) turn to that subject currently gripping the country like a hard frost. I refer of course to the controversy surrounding my very good friend and loyal companion, colleague, entrepreneur, adventurer and all round hamster, St-John. The time has come for me to put down the simple facts of the case but more than that to admit my own responsibility in this embarrassing affair. An affair that has, in my opinion, been given far more coverage than necessary in order to distract the public from other revelatory events of real concern - such as the shocking arrest in the Houses of Parliament of a woman discovered to be spying for FIFA.
Well then, as to personal events, while it is true that St-John took part in negotiations that some might conclude (erroneously) to be unsavoury, I can assure you now that it was at my bequest that he did so and that the items of choice were entirely savoury. There was nothing secretive or underhand about our dealings with the Aldies they were simply the only supermarket willing to deliver the necessary goods, which is to say pet food, which is to say cheese, which, at this time of year with Christmas just around the corner, is to say Stilton, something St-John likes to have to accompany a little port or brandy at suppertime and I am not mean enough to begrudge him, far from it. If I have called the consequent investigation to my personal life ridiculous and certain authorities ‘Idiots’ do you really blame me? Especially since what should have been an entirely private matter between the supermarkets, St-John and myself, ended up as a ghastly mess only after being blabbed to the public via the dreaded Wikki-Squeaks website.
Now some people have legitimately wondered how the leaks arouse and pondered the identity of the source, well, I am not one for finger pointing and I have no desire to encourage a witch-hunt - but certain parties have in the past made plain their irrational dislike of rodents and therefore if anyone does require the home address and contact details of Mrs Ivy Clacton of 44 Acacia Rd, Varlet, Hants. HA1 2BE 0191 770 9166 I shall be happy to oblige, just send an SAE to the villa here.
Elsewhere, but while we are talking of spleen and its venting, I must remark upon the reception given to St-John in his west-end debut. Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap is a well worn theatrical piece as equally long in the tooth as it has been in the running but rarely have I seen such an immediate and vitriolic absence of reviews, opinions, comments - indeed coverage of any kind.
It is also true enough that this was a part St-John could have played in his sleep and it is therefore all the more unfortunate that he chose to attack the role in broad daylight and wide awake. Such assault is criminal and, given the circumstances, 20 critical backlashes is felt by many to be something of a lenient sentence. Indeed, given what I know of St-John’s private proclivities (those the dentist hasn’t plugged) this may have been more of an entertainment than a punishment.
Oh dear, so far I seem to be giving rather a dour send-off to 2010! One is naturally inclined to dwell of the year’s failings and misfortunes and rather ignore the highlights and take for granted those more convivial moments that weave through daily life. Let me now correct any false impression and celebrate a few of these less dramatic but far more enjoyable happenstances.
Firstly there was the marvellous gift I was awarded upon my birthday by St-John and his pals on behalf of Hamstery International honouring my continued support for that fine organisation.
Most of my hobbies and the pleasure I take in them are well known but what a delightful surprise it was to find them presented to me in such a combination! I will explain (and briefly). What I was given is nothing less than a fully working pipe organ. Worn as a kind of hat I can now indulge equally my passion for nicotine and Beethoven. Indeed I have become something of a local fixture, regularly found standing happily at bus stops and issuing forth great clouds of pungent smoke in time to the stirring chords of the 9th symphony. Such a gift - I am deeply moved by the generosity and thoughtfulness of it. Not only that but classed as a musical instrument my birthday apparel thus nimbly avoids the constraints of the smoking ban which has otherwise threatened to confine me to a life indoors. The pipe organ thus joins my pocket ping-pong set as being among the most valued of possessions.
And there i think we shall leave it - there are of course many other matters to discuss... and we shall... oh yes, we shall... for now and at the close of part one, toodle'oo!