Yeah, I know, I’m sure I’m not the only one to think this but I’m certainly the only one to say it, so far at least. But it’s a question I’ve been brooding over whilst considering how to start this first entry of what I hope will be a fairly regular ‘blog.
It was a question that didn’t need answering this time last year as I hopped from one Aussie city to another, lazed through days of glorified sunbathing whilst keeping an eye off the cricket, and literally hot-footed it around truly stunning surrounds in +35 degree temps.
For then, it was to be expected that I post up tales of my recent exploits, add a couple of photos, exaggerate my conquests and conked out moments, and enjoy the ease to which I could allow all my friends access to my whereabouts from the other side of the planet.
But is there any point keeping an on-line account of life when a) it’s not that interesting b) I’m only doing the things that all my mates are doing and they’re not boring everyone with the details and c) the bits that could raise an eyebrow should probably be best kept secret it I want to keep my a) job b) friends c) close ones happy?
How, for instance, can recounting my Christmas and New Years exploits be interesting if all it does is mirror the scene everybody else experienced in England? I doubt I’m the only one whose family gathered around the piano whilst the musically gifted one shared his immense talent, am I?
It got slightly better.
Yes, that’s right. It wasn’t long before we were pissed. No surprise as we’d started with champagne at midday, followed this with red wine, while Dave and dad had hit the brandy by 4pm. It was threatening to get really messy. Until someone mentioned the stat that by the time the clock hits 5pm half the country falls asleep. Any wannabe revolutionaries please take note.
But despite the vast amounts of alcohol consumed we somehow managed to get through the day without any arguments. This was probably down to the fact that Lucy and Steve weren’t there, dad was ill, me and Fe crashed out for part of the afternoon and Dave and Sian went off to Judy & Sadiq’s.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that my family don’t get on, quite the opposite. It’s just that we always seem to choose the worst moment to come to blows. Three years ago we had a full-scale argument over Christmas dinner about the extent that the Humberside Police Force should be blamed for the crimes committed by Ian Huntley. I kid you not. I can’t remember who was arguing what. But there were no winners that day.
Anyway, back to this year. And it had started so serenely as Fe and I stayed over on Christmas Eve. It was Fe’s first experience of a Norman family Christmas. The first thing that she learnt was that you could only stand in rooms where your clothing matches the decorations.
It meant for a slightly stunted Christmas dinner as mum tried to serve us sprouts from her vantage point on the stairs.
No doubt keen that we didn’t have a reprise of the ‘child murdering Ian Huntley situation’ things were pretty low key up until Dave and Sian’s return. Up until then the highlight had been me and Fe managing to look decidedly fruity as we waited to open our presents.
But upon Dave and Sian’s arrival back to the house things perked up again. With songs by the piano, drinks by the fireplace and games that hadn’t seen the light since my schooldays, we carried on until the early hours.
None of which really answers my original point about why I’m bothering with a ‘blog. I guess it’s worthwhile if you’ve found any of this even slightly amusing. The memories of Dave singing ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ will always make me raise a smile. But if that’s not enough then maybe console yourselves with the fact that this ‘blog does give you a reason to stop working. Technically you’re getting paid to read this. Any slow readers or dyslexia sufferers out there would have earned about £10 in the time it’s taken them to get through this.
For those of you who aren’t yet sold you can always stay away until February when I go off to New Zealand. I might have something worthwhile to talk about by then
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