So as the old year lurches to its end, inevitably we review what has happened. It's been a slightly below average year for me, no great new passions or directions, pretty much same as it ever was. On the positive side are the cats, Thomas my young friend, my constant source of amusement, and my dear old Emma who has made it through another year and can still give Thom what for if he gets out of line. I discovered new places to holiday (Nelson Lakes and Golden Bay - it's always good to have a bolthole or two). Movie and book-wise the year has seemed unremarkable, can't think of anything that has been even vaguely memorable. I was EQC'd and survived. The quakes have died down, but of course, we still live with the thought that there might be another Big One. The weather has been unpleasant, two snowstorms and too much cold weather for my liking. One of my customers came in the other day and complained about the heat (30 degrees). Stupid, stupid woman, just enjoy it while it lasts because we get little enough of it.
Of course, next year will be different. It will be a marvellous year, full of adventure and weight-loss. I'll travel business class to Italy to live the life of Reilly in my Tuscan villa. The (young, gorgeous) man of my dreams will sweep me off my feet and will help me spend the millions I am going to win on Lotto. I will retire early. I will buy a little red sports car and get everything lifted, so that I don't embarrass my young man. My talents as an artist and writer will flame into incandescence and a trilogy will be filmed from my first book. I will become both a popular and a cult heroine. I will appear on American Idol or something and Simon Cowell will weep at my feet in adoration. Kevin McCloud will design my caravan, and Posh Becks will do my toenails.
Not.
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