Onwards and upwards

I'm not giving away any secrets by saying that it's New Years Eve.

Days like this always make me a bit nervous. Last days. Last days at a job, last days of a holiday, even bloody Sundays leave me feeling a bit odd at this stage.

Although, that could be the hangovers.

It's really been the fastest year ever, and at times the most excruciatingly slow one.

I look through the blogs I read and I see such an eventful year has passed, some in good ways, and some in not so good ways. Births, deaths, traumatic times, and upheavals.

In all that time, with all that has gone on out there, you keep coming back here. That is humbling, exciting, and not to mention a tad creepy. I jest of course, it's truly encouraging.

This whole thing was not part of any plan, but has turned out to be a very nice distraction along the way.

In the course of 2008, you lot have dropped about six and a half thousand comments here. Some of you just once, others religiously.

I have no idea how many of you read silently. I'd love if you commented just the once, so I could say hello, welcome, and thanks.

Considering that this is just one story, a very simple one, and very repetitive one, I am very, very grateful for all of your input, reassurance, kindness, and something I would have never said was possible, friendship.

At risk of repeating once again, today, New Year's Eve, is CD25. Our best guess is that Saturday, the end of the cycle is due, and we start again. Or, the end doesn't come, and, well, you know the rest...

For those on this side of this messy carry-on I can only say 'heads up', next year could be the one, we can only hope.

For those on the other side of it, I say 'Enjoy it', you've earned it.

For everyone else, I know your own plates are full with troubles off all kinds, so I wish you all the very best for the year to come.

Thank you.

The gift

"It's just what I always wanted!" she cried, tossing the wrapping paper to the floor and wrapping her arms around my neck.

"But it means so much to you, I don't know if I can accept it" she said, the glistening Christmas tree lights reflecting in her watery eyes

"For you, pet, anything" I replied. "It's served me well, and now I think you should have it, you deserve it"

"Wow" ET breathed in disbelief reaching for a tissue, "No one's ever given me a man cold for Christmas before"

"Well you do know" I responded, "That it isn't quite as serious as a man cold now that you've got it"

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. Now crack open another bottle like a darling will you?"

The secret

As Christmas eve wraps itself around us (a foggy one too, just like the song), I get drawn into thinking about all the magical and mystical and amazing stories we hear that happen at Christmas.

Unless you've just tuned in, or have incurred a severe head injury of late, you may know we are holding out for one of those wee Christmas miracles of our own. (Although, if we have to wait for the January sales to get 20% off, then how bad eh?)

With all this festive reflection, I have realised something that has eluded me my whole life.

I can't be sure if it was for my own good, or the good of the planet, or the good the season, or the good of all the children of the world, but it was kept from me all this time, and now I know.

Santa Claus is real, and I am he.

Yes, it's true.

'Idiot!' I hear you cry, 'Drunken arse!' I hear you yell, but no! if you look at the evidence, it is as obvious as the face of the virgin Mary in my scrambled egg.

-Who lives alone with his wife with no children that we know of?

-Who finishes his nightly adventures all breathless, exhausted, and red of face?

-Who seems to be engaging in the same futile exercise over, and over, and over, and over?

-Who can be heard yelling about Hos and cracking whips into the night sky?

-Who is guided solely by the throbbing red extremity of his favourite personal beast?

-Who spends his evenings squeezing up and down in, before finally shooting off up, a tight dark space?

-Who has been obsessed this week with delivering the contents of his sack to exactly the right place at precisely the right time?

No question is there?

Now you know.

Sleep well kiddies, I'm on the case.

A very happy oh-shit-I-forgot-the-AA-batteries-and-everywhere-is-shut day to you all.