I can't believe it's 2019 and I can't believe that I said that I can't believe it's 2019.
There is not much in life that one can confidently predict but the surprise and incredulity that another has passed and a new one is upon us, is as predictable as Simon Cowell's high waisted trousers.
The surprise is usually followed by that gem of a cliche, 'time flies' (generally accompanied with a sigh).
Well, birds and bees fly (among other things apparently, if your parents are to be believed) but time does not.
Time is solid and predictable. This is how it works. Seconds turn to minutes, which turn to hours, twenty four of those and it's a new day and a new dawn.
Dawn has to break seven times and, as if by magic, you have a week.
Four weeks later, you have a month and when almost twelve of those pass, oh by gosh by golly, a week after Christmas, we all link arms to Auld Lang Sang and 'welcome' the new year.*
At this point, we are deliriously happy, thanks to the copious amounts of bubbly and cocktails imbibed through the evening of the last day of the year.
The next day, the first day of the brand new year, we come crashing down and are shocked and dismayed that another year is upon us.
Fortuitously, it has the word 'new' in it. 'New year, new me', is the global mantra as resolutions are rolled out, left, right but perhaps not centre, as we are still feeling the effects of the previous night's merriment.
By 2nd January, fully recovered, the 'new' us feels resolute, determined and in some cases, it would not be an exaggeration to say, refreshed.
A week passes and if our resolutions are still intact and adhered to, a smidgen of smugness creeps in.
That is the death knell to our pious intentions. It is a cue to the Universe to wreak havoc and a day/week/month later, resolutions are broken quicker than a bigamist's marital vows.
Well, we console ourselves, we are only human and well done us for lasting three and a half weeks. Imogen down the road lasted just a week (it is amazing how much we console ourselves on the failings of others).
But the biggest consolation of all...... well, there is always next year!
That, I'm afraid, is the human condition - we may be flawed but we are eternal, somewhat unrealistic, optimists.
* If you are inspired to set music to my 'Twelve Months of New Year', I congratulate you on your foresight - you probably have a monster, albeit seasonal, hit on your hands but please be aware that I have copyright to the lyrics!
Happy 2019 everyone! Although time does not fly, it is still precious and I appreciate the time you take to read my blog.
