New Year? Bah! Humbug and diarrhoea

Mint humbugs, the perfect accompaniment to New Year

Mint humbugs – the perfect accompaniment to New Year

I always find New Year’s Eve depressing.

Not because the old year is ending, but because I think:

Jesus! There’s yet another year ahead to plough through! 

New Year’s Day is a bit better because there’s not that ghastly neo-Dunkirk spirit around in Britain. I would have hated being in London in the Second World War. All that community singing in underground stations and bomb shelters.

There is something unhealthy about people singing in very large groups.

There should be a ban on all singing on New Year’s Eve and a ban on groups of more than two people congregating anywhere between 30th December and 2nd January.

These are some 1st January extracts from old diaries of mine:


(I was in Beirut, which was still occupied by Syrian forces following the Lebanese Civil War.)

Another ad I have seen around is for the Tom Berenger movie of a few years ago which never made it to British cinemas. The posters have Berenger’s face covered in green, brown and black camouflage, just his eyes showing plus the film title: SNIPER.

It is incongruous that SNIPER is being watched for entertainment in Lebanon.

It seems to be popular.


On the phone, my father told me he had had diarrhoea for three or four days. His sister Nettie, who used to work as a nurse, tells him it is probably a side effect of some of the new tablets he is taking.

(In June that year, he died. So it goes.)


Mad inventor John Ward tells me he has got a new job working near Bedford, in a detention centre for immigrants. The application form included the questions:

“Are you a terrorist?”

“Have you ever tried to overthrow the state?”

(A month later, the detention centre was burned down by irate inmates. I do not think John Ward caused their ire, but I could be wrong.)


My mother’s cousin’s husband Osmond is in hospital with diarrhoea.

(He died six days later. So it goes.)


Last night, as midnight approached, my mother asked me if Edinburgh was the capital of Scotland.

(She was born in Scotland. She died three years later, aged 86. So it goes.)


(This morning’s Scotsman newspaper carries a story headlined: SCOTLAND ENJOYED LESS RAIN THAN LAST YEAR – IT JUST DIDN’T FEEL LIKE IT TO MANY. Things must be getting better then…)

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Filed under New Year, Nostalgia

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