I loathe New Year .How many depressing Parties and miserable nights in feeling more alone than anyone ever should . How many dismal reviews of a year wasted . How many pointless scrums on the night Dean Martin rightly called , 'Amateur night'.
If you like that sort of thing by all means enjoy all that excrutiating fake "Good cheer". If you don`t , join me in having a quiet drink but otherwise ignoring it . Time passing is a sollemn and mysterious thing and I have never understood how it provokes yips of merriment. Don`t feel left out , we are the sane ones .
Time was never better mused upon than by TS Elliot. in the grand but fragile opening to the Four Quartets nand the note of melancholy and regret he strikes is about the most apt literary reference i can think of for this blasted time of sorrow .
"........Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.
My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know"