So a new year is puking and mewling in its mother's arms as Shakespeare might have it. And some of us intend .... ever intend ... to copy the snake and shed the skin of our old habits and make ourselves anew, aiming to translate ourselves into new lives and new skins which are fitter, stronger, happier .... for a few weeks.
Usually around NY's eve I get a little maudlin ... another year older and what have I done? .... and I have never particularly wanted to party on that night. Somehow round midnight though a new litte hope springs up that this will be my year, that things (i.e. me) will change, and I will be happy and fulfilled and all that ...
So let my year of hotness .... and tidiness begin ...
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