Saturday, 2 January 2010

A good observational moment; New Year 2010. The pubs yesterday were empty except for the drug addled mates in over animated huddles wearing too few clothes, the streets only for the conspicuous staggering of those trying to find home in similar states- one figure in our landscape suddenly broke in to a run, then ran in to a road, then stopped, bewildered, then forged on- who knows where. I enjoyed it, in a strange calm, sat with Julie in the Old George fully dressed; the only customers other than those still struggling to stay high from the night before. It was a choice between that or 'The Guns of Navarone'. It was time for pondering and the pondering did not bode well. We felt numb and stroked the pub cat.
I went out today with the same feeling, but also a rather lovely comprehension of age. What life was ten years ago, how it is different now. What will the next decade bring? Can we bring ourselves to our senses? Can we even think anymore? Certainly age brings something, some melancholia for certain.
I went down the White Horse, life begins again, the dancers danced, and to be honest, I'm glad the so-called celebrations are over.

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