So, 2020 has arrived in the guise of a beautiful morning. I’m going to a football match this afternoon, then tonight there’s a new Doctor and a new Dracula. Not a bad start for any geeky, gothic, football fans out there. And I reckon there’ll be pizza.
Here the sun has set on 2019, darkness has fallen on the previous decade.
I don’t have any diaries on hand to consult, and have not the time now to go through all of my City Jackdaw posts and FB status’, but, from the top of my head:
On starting and finishing the decade-
my wife and I were foster carers and now we host students; we lost our dog Rydal but gained our dog Bryn; we lost some good friends but gained some new friends; our son James was born and my mum was diagnosed with Alzheimers; ups and downs; highs and lows; but on the whole a good ten years.
I’m not sure why we chop our lives up into segments and chapters, but we do.
Wishing you all a great new decade. Pace yourselves.
See you all in 2020.
Footsteps that have led right to the cusp of 2019! Have a great new year, people, wherever in the world the journey has taken you.
“My nuclear button is bigger than yours.”
Full of optimism for 2018.
2018. Let’s be cool.
Happy New Year X
New Year Half the world is hurting, turning its face to shadow. Moldering moments, kindle to flame, are undefined images, lost to a cold, northwesterly wind, licking at the edges where the numbness fades. Firs stand conspicuous among their naked cousins, all tendenous needles and cadaverous cones. The sky is leaden. The streets are all unchartered lanes. An unknown bird calls out this new day; this new year. Everything is redeemable. ©AndrewJamesMurray
Thought I would share this from last year’s New Year’s Day. I started this year much as I did in 2016: having a brew stood on the step, watching the rain and a gliding gull overhead. But last year I went on to make a sad discovery in the local woods.
I sat outside in the back garden with a hot cup of tea, coat fastened, watching the milky coming of dawn. I can do this as I don’t drink these days, my New Year’s Day vigil no longer debilitated by the night before.
All of the neighbouring houses were in darkness, the windows dark, sightless eyes. There was no sign of life at all. Human life, that is.
The morning was scored by the constant rattle of a magpie, hidden from view. They nest in a huge tree beyond one of the houses, but the tree appeared bare, empty both of leaves and birds.
The call went on. Perhaps the chatter-rattle was bird-talk for come on-it’s morning!
In the spring and summer I plant flowers for the birds and bees, then switch my allegiance to the birds in autumn and winter, putting out food at dawn and dusk. I hadn’t…
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