Hello again. I know I said I would continue our chat about what’s in a name, but that was a month ago and I’m keen to digress. It’s January 2018! Past my prime, “one day closer to death” as per Pink Floyd, still running fast when roused. Yesterday the Doomsday Clock was moved 30 seconds ahead, to stand teetering on the edge of the end. A nuclear apocalypse. Sounds a bit extreme, but current political climate renders it conceivable.
Belated Happy New Year to You! A bit of a cliché, rather trite if you ask me, but nevertheless, it’s traditional to bestow goodwill upon one another by using the phrase over and over on and after the date of December 31st; surpassing the multiple whirlwind days of cheery Merry Christmases and other Holiday Greetings combined. Not just here in Canada, all across the world there was gaiety galore as the clocks wound down. Given my fear of fireworks, I was glad we spent the eve without the panoramic view of our south facing balcony. Mother and I were warming underground in Buddy’s basement and fast asleep long before the countdown began. Can’t credit maturity for lack of interest or stamina either, considering that Mrs. B who is 86 stayed up to ring it in from her big cushioned bed upstairs (the area out of bounds for me due to my propensity to dig away at lovely cream carpets) . She’s was on a Dalton Abbey binge that weekend by the way!
As you know, it was friggin freezing back then and on January 1st the pack of People pretending to be Polar Bears were forbidden to take their annual plunge into Lake Ontario. Here’s a piece of true trivia for you to nibble on: What do u call a group of polar bears? A celebration!
Who is that homeless girl? 
A (very) belated happy new year to you, too!
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