Same shit, different date

Warning – This is not going to be a fluffy “Happy New Year, Hope it fulfills all your dreams blah de blah” type of post.

I have a cold, toothache, the entire household has had D&V at some point over the last week, there has been alcohol consumed and I haven’t seen enough of 2014 yet to be able to give an informed decision as to whether it is ‘good’ or not.

So. What’s really changed in the last 40 or so minutes? Different Year? New beginning? Nope. Absolutely nothing apart from the date.  And that’s all folks.

If you be rich, you still be rich.  If you be poor, you still be poor.  If you be drunk (I can appreciate this one in particular), you will have a mighty fine whopping hangover.

Mr Boudica and I have been watching DVD’s, eating curry and drinking cider.  (Disclaimer – quite a lot of cider actually), then we watched the London fireworks on TV.  And by about 12.07am I was starting to wonder how much they cost.  In a country where people are visiting food banks as they can’t afford to feed their kids, where people are losing their homes, living on the street, hospitals can’t afford life saving drugs and schools, well lets not even go there.  With all of that, how much money did London just set fire to?  And why?  For the “Feel Good Factor”? So we don’t look mean compared with other countries?

I have an idea, next year, lets scale it back.  Lets spend say, half. (If anyone actually knows what it cost, or has time enough to find out, please get in touch).  Spend half, probably still produces a nice fireworks display. After all, villages up and down the country spend less every November and no-one says “ooh that was crap”.  Anyway, spend the rest of the money on other stuff.

More TA’s in schools, homeless shelters, feeding people, whatever.  Don’t just set fire to to it, do something useful with it.

Or, we could strap fireworks to MP’s arses and burn them for the entertainment of the crowd. No, wait. Someone already had that idea and look what happened to him.

This time last year, Mr Boudica and I wondered whether by this time this year (is this making any sense to you?) we would be in a new home. Well here we are, in our lovely new home.

The problem is, when I wake up with that hangover in the morning (a condition common with advancing age I’m told), the dishwasher and freezer will still be broken.  No miracles will have happened.  I will still be cantankerous and opinionated, I will (hopefully) still have 2 children with ASD that I love dearly yet drive me crazy in equal measure and more than likely, it will still be raining.

But I did have a very good time eating curry, getting drunk while sitting in front of the fire watching DVD’s.  I shall be celebrating that instead.

Happy New Year ;)

PS: This post is brought to you by the power of Mr Boudica’s spellchecking and proof-reading skills!

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