Tuesday 31st December 2019

New Year's Eve.

All things come to an end. In time.

And so this shitty, crappy year draws to an end. A year full of death, rancour, hate and division. Normally this would be a reason to celebrate, but there is every indication that 2020 be even worse.

But more of that in my next post "mystic Jelltex".

It takes us some time to relax, to really decompress from the stress and timetable of the working week and year. But, once Christmas passed, we lay in bed later and later, until we are now waking at gone half seven, with the blackbirds outside singing for their breakfast, and a reminder that I need to go and put seeds out and fill up the feeders.

The cats had long since given up trying to stir us, and they had both gone back to sleep, with one eye open keeping us under surveillance.

I get up, feed Scully, and make the first coffees of the day, and then go out in my slippers to do right by the birds. I didn't realise how damp the ground was, and soon my slippers were soaked through and my feet feeling like blocks of ice.

Back inside to drink the coffee and check on the internets.

Nothing had changed.

Jools went swimming, so I tidied up and had a shower.

I had written my reviews of the year and decade in advance, so all I had to do was copy and paste and add the HTML before publishing them.

I do my usual first job of the day, checking where in the world an LP I ordered was. I have written about Brendan Benson before, I bought his frst records, o CD, from Tower Records in Las Vegas whilst on detachment in November 1996. Since then I have bought most of his stuff, seen him in concert many times, and one time followed him around the country after his manager gave me a tour pass.

That first album, One Mississippi, has never been released on vinyl, until now. Brendan's friend and White Strip, Jack White, put it out through his Third Man Records back in November, and I ordered it as soon as I could. It was expensive, then shipping doubled the price.

I was given a tracking number, so followed the order as it was dispatched and shipped from Nashville to Chicago, then arrived, checked and cleared customs. This part took the whole of December, it was loaded on a plane on Christmas Eve.

Then it arrived in the UK, and all seemed good, then I got a message saying it had been impounded as there was charges to pay.

VAT.

A fiver, but with a handling fee, that was £11. I waited for two days to get a mail saying how to pay. But at lunchtime yesterday, I got a card saying it was at the local post office depot, I could go down and pay to release it.

I drove into town to collect it, that this was the most exciting thing of the day shows how we party animals mature and get reserved as we get old. Was I ever a party animal, and what does that mean, anyway?

I liked a drink. I still do. And New Year's Eve was an excuse to have a few extra. But in the end it amounts to watching a clock countdown, clocks chime and then after the cheering and toasting, nothing really changes.

And you start the year with a hangover.

We last went out on NYE nearly a decade ago, to the Red Lion. We knew no one, it was too noisy to seak, so we had hot roast sandwiches and came back by 11 in time for Piano Blokey on the tellybox.

And this year was going to be quiet too.

We listened to the radio, watched about half a dozen episodes of The Expanse, had lunch, had dinner. Watched Piano Blokey, toasted the New Year and went to bed.

For lunch, we had cheese and crackers, and membrillo. Membrillo is a thicker version of quince jelly, like Turkish Delight, you can spread it on crackers on its own, or with cheese. Our friend, Steve, and his partner made some, and we swapped some sloe port for jelly and membrillo. Anyway, we liked it, very much. A stronger tasting version of jelly, and tastes like nothing else.

We retired to the sofa for some TV and to try to stay awake for the afternoon.

The final daylight of the year faded outside, and we watched the space soap opera play out. We are halfway through series 3, there is at least another series and a half to go.

But it is enjoyable. Which is the point.

And that is how we saw the rest of the year out, alternating between watching TV and listening to music. And eating Christmas cake and supper of party food.

At quarter to midnight, we switch to BBC and alternate between the live feed from London and Jools Holland. Craig David and Rick Astley featured, like it was 2000 and 1987 all over again. Bot looked like they hadn't aged a day, either.

Midnight came, we watched the fireworks from London, and toasted ourselves, then went to bed.

That was that.