For the first time in over two decades, I went to bed early on New Years Eve. No Big Ben Bongs or Jools Holland’s Hootenanny – I skipped it all. I watched the fireworks, the following morning on the news. I had zero hangover too. Not a single alcoholic drop had passed my lips all day.
New Years Eve
I was sat watching mindless TV, when I realised, it was fast approaching 11pm on the biggest party night of the year. Far from being in the party mood, I finished my cup of tea and retired for the evening. Was I just getting old?
To be honest, I had been thinking about the expectation of New Years Eve all day and the promise of a new year ahead. Another 365 blank pages to write your next exciting chapter…gripping!
Social media was flooded with New Year – New Me posts. Status updates, sharing a brief synopsis, of that individuals year. The highs. The lows. The special mentions etc. The plans for their year ahead, together with their bittersweet farewells, to the previous 12 months. In that moment, as 11pm ticked over, I thought one thing…sod this – I’m going to bed.
I expected to feel different the next day. I expected to feel less in some way. I mean, I had skipped the party and not wished anyone ‘A Happy New Year!’. Surprisingly, I felt exactly the same.
New Years day, meant spring cleaning. Running a few errands and getting back to normality. I know that I don’t want another 2017. I know I want change. Time for myself. To get fitter. To be stronger mentally and physically. I know I want more. More what? – No idea.
It’s easy to say that only you can change things. Part of that statement is true. What if, like me and millions of others, your choices are limited. Changing careers, retraining, going to University, taking a pay cut, attending day or night classes, going to the gym. What if you can’t do any of that, due to children or child care issues, or a serious lack of cash. Then what?
No seriously, then what?
As the first day of 2018 drew to a close, I felt accomplished within my home. I sat down with a glass of wine. My crisp and fresh diary in hand, ready to jot down my plans. I walked confidently into my freezing cold conservatory (the alcohol lives there), to replenish our evening beverages. No shoes on. No slippers. I stepped square, on a slug.
Was that 2018 flipping me the bird already? Day one my friends! New Year. Old me. One dead slug.