A lady of my acquaintance informs me that 2008 is going to be a good year. Her reason for this optimistic prediction is that the numerals when added together equal ten, but if you drop the zero we are left with one - one being a fresh start. I'd like to point out that I have no interest in numerology, astrology, chart positions, or occultism of any kind - except for spiritualism of course, which I adore. Where else could you see Victorian ladies producing yards of muslin and egg-white from the old you-know-where, and proclaiming it to be your dead uncle Ernie?
Anyway, New Year and copious amounts of alcohol brings out the battiness in people, and it's far better to listen to breezy psychobabble than get stabbed in the eye or puked on. Personally speaking, I think 2008 will be dreadful ... possibly so dreadful that its very awfulness will become enjoyable to those who are usually the most miserable and least reachable by conventional means. Culture has virtually stopped anyway, but it should grind to a halt completely by the spring.
I was very disappointed when the Y2K bug failed to materialize at the millennium - which was particularly selfish as my father was on a life-support machine at the time. Even though I haven't bothered to think through the far-reaching consequences (it's only January the bloody third, so don't expect any lucidity from me) I'd be quite happy if the internet went down and all things digital went with it. MP3s corrupted, iPods and mobile phones obsolete, no more Facebook, Myspace, Bebo ... pretty much all recorded music of the noughties vaporised because it's not backed up on tape anymore. It'd be a bit of a shock - like waking up in silence, realising something was amiss, then opening the curtains and seeing a foot of beautiful snow on the ground. Having said all this, I have just downloaded Mr Blue Sky by ELO onto this very laptop, while reclining on the settee in my mother's lounge, and will shortly get dressed - it's 2.30 - and go for a walk and try to get snowed on.
So apologies for the slight lack of anything interesting to say, but being a self-employed loafer, it's difficult to pinpoint the time when useful activity starts again.
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