Although ordinarily a fella who’s sceptical one’s serendipity can take a turn for the preponderant when a calendar year expires, I’ve convinced myself 2022 will be an altogether more fragrant mistress than its rancid predecessor.
2021 bidding me a welcome adieu last Saturday morning when handing the almanac baton to what I hope will be a less spiteful twelve months. The outgoing year taking with it the rotting carcass which for a dozen months has metaphorically hovered over me with the disagreeable redolence of three week old turbot.
2022 has to be better!!….. Without wanting to recount at length topics which manifested such starkness in my annus horribilis, it’s fair to say the previous 365 days brought little cheer. In particular the health issues and subsequent passing of the familial matriarch have left a lingering darkness in the clan’s soul.
Sure, it’s not all been bad news for the family. After all, my son Jonathon married his fragrant fiancee Jenny a few weeks back. Also, both he and his sister Rachel acquired the brio of securing respective properties in Thirsk and Garforth between the darker existential plot lines. And, despite losing their beloved grandma, my children both appear contented with their lot when the calendar baton passed to 2022.
“So what’s your strategy to ensure an upturn in your fortunes, Gary?” I hear you cry as you polish off the last of the mince pies and egg nog.
For a start, in a move aimed at lifting my prevailing dark mood, I’m going to re-embrace the writing of regular narratives on my website strachan.blog . These partly fictional vignettes bringing with them a catharsis little else can provide, with perhaps the exception of pencilling cartoon/caricature art. A pastime I also intend to rekindle – My first piece maybe the symbolic metaphor of a sketched phoenix from the flames.
As well as once more penning blogs, in 2022 I also intend to write a whimsical tale of a bumbling German burglar called Cort Intheact. A loner who’s been ostracised by his family for his blundering felonious acts and beneficing crap birthday presents. P*ss poor trinkets such a lateral flow testing kits, aerial photographs of their homes and a book recounting TV presenter Richard Madeley’s 10 favourite tapas recipes.
I intend my portrayal of Intheact will be a sympathetic landscape of the cloddish thief’s psyche. Mine a pastiche of a deeply troubled and misunderstood man who drifted into a life of crime in the misguided belief it’d provide kudos, consequently affording him a much longed for accolade of ‘fitting in’.
Despite it being riddled with my trademark dabbling into the absurd, I’m hoping the chapters can proffer insightful commentary on the human condition. In particular the misguided routes individuals embark upon to become part of a tribe or clique. And, in some instances, how receiving that acceptance can be folly if sought from the toxic.
I’d suggest the question a deeply flawed singer once posed of “Do you wanna be in my gang; my gang; my gang – Do you wanna be in my gang?” should be responded to with caution.
Anyhow enough of my Poundshop psychological babble. Welcome 2022 – In these uncertain COVID times it appears our lifestyles during your watch will to remain going with the lateral flow.
Happy New Year!!….. Here’s to a better one!