Blwyddwyn Newydd Dda! Or to use another well-known British language, Happy New Year! 2012 is now just a bundle of memories which over time will slip one by one into that dusty portion of the brain reserved for Forgotten Moments Never To Be Remembered, until all that remains of 2012 will be an image of Mo Farah's Mobot hand-sign. So I'll ask, while the last year might still feel pretty fresh, how was it for you? Yeah, you didn't realise that blogs could be two-way did you? Well why should I have to do all the heavy lifting? It's time for you to talk back! I'll leave a pause, the floor is yours....
Ok, whatever, sounds good, now back to me. It was a surprising year, 2012. For a start the world didn't end on 21st December, contrary to what what many Mayan-fanciers fervently believed and in some cases were no doubt rather hoping for. Somehow the world lurched on. Another shock was the sheer number of Olympic medals our British athletes managed to ratchet up over summer, allowing only the US and China ahead of us in the table. Let's not forget the US has five times our population and China no less than 21 times! And on a more personal level, it would have astonished my early-2011 self if it had been explained to him that within a year he would no longer be living the life of a software professional in the heart of the biggest city in Europe but instead joining a rural West Country community as a trainee vegetable gardener.
Over the several decades of its existence Pilsdon has accumulated many Ways of Doings Things, particularly when it comes to commemorating annual events, and New Year's Eve is no exception. It begins with a proper three course sit-down meal at 8pm, with a choice of starter (pate or smoked salmon, cream cheese and avocado), then roast beef carved from two enormous Flintstone-style joints with all the necessary trimmings, topped off with chocolate mousse covered in almonds (as the resident nut-allergist my dessert had a glace cherry a-top instead which drew some envious glances). The centre-piece of the night was The Quiz which required a combination of both Pilsdon-specific and more wide-ranging knowledge; due to some irregularities with the self-scoring system my team did not win.
This was followed by charades, or 'The Game' as we were told it is known as in upper class circles, again prompting calls for justice to be done as one of our resident Reverends indulged in what can only be described as breath-taking fraud - he mouthed the words! As the rota never lets up, not even on New Year's Eve, I then had to go and sweep and mop the kitchen floor, returning to festivities in time for fireworks on the lawn which were so hilariously devoid of panache, vitality or any kind of oomph that we had no fear of the cat being startled or the baby awoken, and yet it was one of the most enjoyable firework displays I've attended. And so it was proved conclusively that a good party can be thrown without the influence of alcohol.
Some of you may still be wondering why I began this post in Welsh and weren't really able to enjoy the rest of it in your mild confusion. It's actually not that random as you'll know if you happen to have read the last couple of posts. Having recently bought some land in Wales I thought it might be an idea to gen up on the local lingo so have begun to take a few stumbling steps in that direction under the excellent (and free) tutelage of "Say Something in Welsh" mp3 downloads. Since it isn't called "Write Something in Welsh" I am going to stick to the English vernacular on this blog for the foreseeable future, you may be relieved to hear. Or maybe you don't give a monkey's.
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