– Well done. Is there a problem?
– It all seems so – final.
– Until next year. Or rather later this year. In 11 months' time, or so, it'll all be out again.
– It always feels as if you're packing away a large chunk of your life. And then burying it in the loft, out of sight.
– True. But otherwise you'd only get weary of it: even the tinsel would start to pall after a few months. And the tree would just get in the way if you wanted to hoover, or hold a party, or whatever. It's better this way, believe me. And then it will all be fresh and exciting again next December.
– I suppose so. Perhaps it is because you put such a lot of effort into trying to make this a jolly time of year for everyone, you feel deflated when it's over and done with. And you realise you have to return to the grey drudgery of work tomorrow.
– Ah yes. Work. Is it really grey?
– Compared with tinsel, yes.
– But it's a time to start again: renewed, refreshed; possibly even sober by now. As in the words of the popular ditty:
The old year now away is fled,
The new year it is enterèd,
Then let us now our sins down tread,
And joyfully all appear.
Let's merry be this holiday,
And let us run with sport and play,
Hang sorrow, let's cast care away,
God send you a happy new year!
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