End

So; 2012 is fast approaching an end. Time to stop and reflect on what has been achieved, and what, despite one's best efforts, has been less successful. Friendships gained and lost. Opportunities grasped courageously and those allowed to slip shamefacedly away.

It has rained a lot.

I watched quite a bit of sport, what with the Olympics, and Euro2012, and the Tour de France; and somehow managed to complete my first ever 10km run. Though stroll may be a fairer description. Otherwise, for a while I made more of an effort to get out on my bike; though this has fallen sadly by the wayside with the arrival of winter. And rain.

I read quite a few books, preferring to buy the old-fashioned paper copies rather than those new-fangled electronic versions (which, mark my words, will never catch on). In particular, working my way through the complete Sherlock Holmes has been a highlight of the last few years. I had another go at Proust but am starting to despair. I've still made no progress whatsoever on beginning my own novel. It would help, I think, if I had the faintest inkling of what to write about. The old adage of writing about what you know best is hardly inspiring when I stop to consider the uneventful life I lead. Unless I can somehow work computational chemistry and learning to play the lute into the plot. And rain.

I have managed to stay in employment, which is always a good thing in such difficult economic times. The bank balance is never as large as I would like. I am not sure what to do about this.

Notable are all the things I haven't done nearly as often as I would have wished. Like travelling to distant lands, or even distant corners of the land I'm in at the moment; or trips to the concert hall or cinema; or installing a new kitchen; or doing something creative with the garden; and lots of other things too numerous to mention. I could make them all into resolutions for 2013, but that might be a bit too ambitious. Better to pick something simple that I have some chance of achieving. Not the Teach Yourself Ukrainian then.

Plague

– You look rough.
– Thank you. It's only a cold.
– Right. Even so, you have to keep an eye on these things. They can turn nasty.
– They can?
– Well, they can spread to the chest, can't they? And from there it's a short step, anatomically speaking, to your liver, and spleen; and brain.
– Do colds spread like that? I thought it was more like a few days of snuffly noses; that sort of thing.
– Well, it's down to viruses, you know: they can multiply and invade local tissues like – like viruses. Mutating as they go.
– Sounds a bit grisly.
– It's best to be prepared, I find. Have you seen a doctor?
– No...
– Probably not worth it. Not now.
– What do you suggest I do?
– Just take it easy, I guess. Try not to do too much. There's nothing so important that it won't wait a few weeks till you get better. Or if I can be of any help, let me know, and I'll try to take some time off work. February will probably be quiet for me if you're still going by then.
– Thank you.
– And I always find hot drinks to be a great help; and a high energy diet. Such as mince pies.
– That sounds good.
– Yes. I'd be happy to join you if you were thinking of getting some out.

Sprout

– Well, that's another Christmas come and gone. All those months of preparation (or so people tell me; I must have put in a solid week myself) and then it's over before you notice.
– I don't know. There do to seem to be fewer festive lights around the streets today. And I noticed a lady in a shop window taking down her tree this morning, which was a little sad. But I always think the celebrations should carry on for a good few days.
– Twelfth nightish.
– Yes. It somehow seems more appropriate than it all going flat by Boxing Day, and everyone being swept away by the sales. Let alone the sales beginning online on Christmas Day itself.
– Certainly have enough food to last well into the New Year. Still can't open the fridge without things falling out on top of me. And hardly made much of an impact on the pudding.
– I rather like the way these things last. Certainly helps with menu planning for the first few weeks of January.
– So did Christmas go smoothly?
– I guess so: more or less. There is always so much to do: you rather lose track of the days.
– Thursday.
– Sorry?
– Today's Thursday.
– Yes. I meant you tend to lose sight of the bigger picture: get too bogged down with the details: how many hours to cook the sprouts, that sort of thing.
– At such times, all you can do is to try your best. And hope the sprouts are edible.

Eve

– All done?
– I don't know. I'm running out of steam. It's getting late. Maybe time to call it a day.
– Best not to attempt stuffing the turkey when you're tired. The consequences are too dreadful to think about.
– Probably. If I get up early enough tomorrow, I should have time before breakfast.
– Nothing quite like manhandling a dead turkey on an empty stomach.
– Perhaps I'll get up early enough to have breakfast first.
– It will be Christmas Day. You should have a lie-in on Christmas Day. Gone are the days when small children would start leaping on your bed at 5 in the morning.
– Indeed.
– What time does the cat wake up?
– About 5 in the morning.
– Well, it'll be just like having small children running around the house again. That'll be something to look forward to. Especially as the cat won't be as demanding: a bowl of food and a warm radiator and she'll be fast asleep for the rest of the day. Small children, on the other hand, need to be entertained for hours before they crash out. And the cat will be happy to hoover up stray bits of turkey. Whereas children tend to grumble if you feed them on nothing but scraps.
– There are also some bits of wrapping left to do. Nothing urgent. But it never feels right to be wrapping Christmas presents on the day itself. Let alone on Boxing Day. I ought to do some now... You know, there's a carol that keeps going round my head.
– Probably a sign of intense fatigue. I would keep away from the scissors if I were you.
– Then why should men on earth be so sad?
– That's a difficult one to answer. Why do you ask?
– No, that's the carol that keeps going round my head.
– Right. You should definitely keep away from the scissors.

Turkey

Not many days left. Today was perhaps a little disappointing in terms of gift shopping, but more productive with regards to food. To tell the truth, there are not many gifts left to get; but then again the sands of time are rapidly running out. Not much you can do about the sands of time: they have a mind of their own. Unless you can find some slow-running sand somewhere. There is an opportunity waiting to be developed there.

On the plus side, I am now the proud owner of a turkey. I have had them before. The previous one didn't last all that long. This one is safely installed in the fridge, oblivious of the fate that awaits it. Although the jar of cranberry sauce on the top shelf might give it a clue.

I don't mind turkey. Some people seem to be less enthusiastic about it, as if it were just a chicken with delusions of grandeur. But there is something inescapably Christmassy about it, although that may be more to do with the folk wearing paper hats sitting around it, pulling crackers and hiding sprouts under their plates. It's true you can get to eat quite a lot of turkey over the Yuletime period, if you put your mind to it, but it is a versatile ingredient that can enliven so many dishes. I ought to write up a few of my favourites as I go along. Posterity would be all the poorer without them.

Cranberry

We are entering that awkward run up period to Christmas: the final few days of preparation, when you have to start thinking in earnest about whether you have bought all the presents; or indeed any presents. And the food shopping: that's quite tricky to get right. Do you go early to avoid the queues, only to struggle for several days with your fridge completely taken over by an irate turkey? Or do you play it cool – wait till the last minute, late on Christmas Eve, when everyone else is at home breaking into the mince pies, only to find there is just a single sprout left at the supermarket?

I've been buying bits and pieces of food over the past few days. With a rough prototype draft of a shopping list in front of me, for inspiration, you might say, but not necessarily to be followed slavishly. This may be a problem when I end up on Christmas morning with a selection of fifteen different cheeses but very little else to eat. The other problem will be finding the things I have bought. The general lack of storage space in the house means that the fridge and cupboards get filled very quickly, and all the additional festive items have to be squirrelled away in whichever nook and cranny comes to hand. So on the big day I will spend hours searching for the cranberry sauce that I know I purchased weeks ago but which will do its utmost to hide itself away till I stumble upon it at the back of the bathroom cabinet some time around Easter.

A flying snowman. Actually, it's hanging on a thread.

Age

– Well, I guess it's nearly over.
– Yes... These things are gone before you realise. Another day. Another birthday.
– You don't look any older. Which is good.
– Thank you.
– In fact, given your age, you're holding up rather well.
– Again, thank you; I think.
– Though I suppose there's no point deluding yourself. There comes a time when you have to acknowledge your age.
– In what way...?
– You know, realise your limitations. Look after yourself: start to take things easy: conserve what little energy you have left.
– Of course... Actually, I don't feel so very different from yesterday. I don't feel as if I am about to fall to pieces.
– Glad to hear it. It's always best to keep a positive attitude. Once you start to give way to despondent thoughts, it's a downward spiral. So they tell me.
– I'll do what I can...
– That's the spirit. Of course, there is always a limit to what you can achieve. Boils down to genetics, in the end.
– Right...
– But don't let that put you off.
– No; not in the least. Always good to have goals in life.
– Just make sure they're not too long term.

Tree

So the Christmas tree is now up and running. I put it up yesterday evening; a bit late compared to most of the neighbours, some of whom have been illuminating the night sky with their external decorations for weeks now. I always like to involve the children in these things, thinking it will make them feel Christmassy and generally cheer them up. But only my daughter was around, and she settled for sticking a few snowflakes around the new living room mirror, and then sat down again. But it's there now: looking a lot like it did last year, and the year before, and quite possibly the year before that; especially as it's the same tree, which lives in a box in the loft for most of the year. I ought to get around to getting a real tree again; but I get put off by wandering around garden centres trying to find the perfect specimen; and forcing it into the car when it doesn't particularly want to go in; and lugging it into the house, leaving a trail of needles everywhere; and then unwrapping it to find it isn't such a perfect specimen after all but is missing something on one side, and leans worryingly. I go for a fairly subtle and understated style of tree decoration, mainly because I don't have all that many decorations; but the ones I have display a certain quiet and dignified charm. As long as the cat doesn't take a shine to them, they should last many years to come.

I have my original laptop back from the repairers; which means I can type several orders of magnitude faster than on my old laptop, the one with the missing letters. I remember, as a child, a watch repairers, where we would take watches, and even clocks, to be repaired. These were clocks that worked by clockwork, and hence could be repaired by a little old man with a hammer and a screwdriver. Nowadays these things are practically disposable: it's barely worth the effort or the cost to replace the battery. And it's the same with computers: they are becoming disposable, with a year or two's shelf life at most. It seems wasteful: high-tech gluttony, gorging ourselves on far more electronic calories than we need to survive.

Cheer

I suppose today must in some way be auspicious, the date being 12/12/12. Not the sort of thing that happens very often; and certainly won't be happening again in my lifetime. I didn't notice anything special, I'm afraid; and wasn't even aware when it turned 12 minutes past 12; at which point you would have thought people would leap out of their seats, wave their arms frantically in the air, let rip a raucous halloo, and then calmly, but contentedly, sit back down and continue with their lunch. I just continued with my lunch. But that is a recurrent problem of mine: I never know how to celebrate in an appropriate manner. I am just too reserved for my own good. Had I noticed the clock, I might have come out with a sober cheer, keeping my voice down, of course, so as not to disturb the other occupants of the office. But the chance has gone now. For ever.

But if you are keen on these things, you can always find more subtle patterns to brighten up an otherwise lacklustre day: perhaps sequences such as 10/11/12 (which you missed last month) or palindromes such as 21/11/12 (ditto, unless you write your dates in the North American fashion, in which case it doesn't really work). The possibilities are almost endless.

Deer

It seemed bitterly cold all day today: perhaps the pain is a price worth paying if it helps to put you in a suitably festive mood. A friend at work has gone to spend Christmas in Australia. It's just not the same, nibbling turkey sandwiches on the beach. Turkeys, like penguins, belong to polar climates. I guess you could always turn up the air conditioning to make it feel a little more Christmassy. Provided you remembered to bring a portable air conditioning unit with you to the beach.

Whereas here you can revel in the fast-approaching winter solstice, and, as I did yesterday, go for a walk somewhere suitably bleak and desolate late in the afternoon as the sun is beginning to set. It was Tatton Park, which you may not normally think of as either bleak or desolate, but on a cold winter's day, under glowering grey skies, with chill winds whipping up the grim black waters of the mere, and few souls foolhardy enough to venture out, it can seem positively Wuthering Heights-ish. And they shut the gates fairly early, too; which adds to the sense of dread and impending doom as you begin to wonder if you'll be locked in over night, left to survive the elements as best you can, and somehow avoid being devoured by the vast herds of wild and unruly deer.

Advent

It is Advent; has been for a week or so, depending how you reckon it; whether by the Liturgical calendar or the Advent calendar; the difference between the two being something I find myself explaining to my children each year, without them ever showing any sign of remembering; which might reflect my inadequacy at expounding essential points of canon law; or the overwhelming logic of the chocolate variety. I didn't get around to getting myself an Advent calendar this year, although my daughter persuaded me to get one for the cat. Which sounds mildly sacrilegious; though you never know, Cat may be quite devout in her own way. And probably doesn't care too much on what day it begins.

The Christmas concert went well this evening, with a selection of carols by the choir and some others for audience participation, as well as some cheery orchestral items. It is a good idea to have the audience joining in: it keeps them on their toes, and helps them to appreciate the immense effort involved in singing Christmas carols in tune, while simultaneously getting the words right. We sang some Buxtehude, too; which is always nice for a change. No idea what the words meant, but I made my best effort at a baroque German accent. My daughter's school play was an even greater success yesterday: she was a lion in the classic Shakespeare play about lions. And walls.

Frost

Maybe it is to be expected, but it seems to be getting colder. With bits of ice here and there, as if to underline the point. And there is talk of impending snow. Definitely wintry.

I'm not sure what the cat thinks of all this. It must be confusing for her, this sudden drop in temperature. At least we humans are reasonably well-prepared: we notice the appearence of Yuletide gifts and foodstuffs filling the shops, and we know autumn has arrived. And sure enough, within a couple of months Christmas is here. But Cat presumably cannot pick up on such subtleties. Does she remember winter from last year? How long does a cat's memory last? Granted they don't have much to think about at the best of times: you might imagine a simple memory might hang around for quite a while before anything better comes along to displace it. I will have to observe her closely when I put up the Christmas tree: see if there is any flicker of recognition. I seem to remember she left it alone last year; probably terrified of the lights and baubles. Or just disgusted by my lack of taste and obvious inability to colour coordinate the decorations. It is demoralising to have your best efforts at interior design ridiculed by a cat.

Mosaic

– Computer still not working?
– No. As you can see.
– You ought to get it fixed.
– Yes.
– Or get another one.
– Thank you. You have been a great help.
– Sometimes it takes someone on the outside to cast light on a thorny problem: sometimes you can be just too close to see the solution.
– Indeed. That has made everything so much clearer. It's not that I want to change the subject, but look at this:

– Interesting picture. What is it?
– I don't really know. It was on a stone.
– Some kind of primitive art? A relic of a long-forgotten civilisation?
– Perhaps.
– Where did you find it?
– Macclesfield.
– Well, there you go, then.