SO that’s another Christmas galloped through, another brush with near-calamity as the oven shrank each time I tried to ram food into it, and, sadly, another friend struck down with the norovirus bug.
In other words, an everyday story of Christmas 2012. In spite of everything, ours was good, and I do hope yours was, too.
Now we’re in what might be called the doldrums, that stretch of the year when we need two calendars to enable us to function, and then it’s full speed ahead into yet another of those impossibly futuristic-sounding dates, 2013.
However, I imagine that most of us would like to cling on to 2012 a little longer, with all its Diamond Jubilee and Olympic excitements. It was indeed a vintage year, one hardly likely to be exceeded in our lifetime for thrills, achievement, glory, unity, passion, and all those huggable qualities we thought had been lost to us not long after Everest was conquered and the Queen was crowned. Now we know we need not be afraid or embarrassed to sing the National Anthem. We know, too, that feeling of being fit to burst with joy on witnessing spectacles and triumphs that had never seemed possible, cheering on the underdog and suddenly realising they could actually win.
So much changed over the course of this year, not least in the way that zero expectations transformed into triumphant success, that now we could be in danger of being satisfied with nothing less than the best. Remember how some of Team GB wept and apologised for winning ‘only’ a bronze medal? It isn’t long since we’d have happily settled for a bronze and thought we were among the world’s elite.
Perhaps the pursuit of perfection is the legacy of the Olympics that they’ve all been talking about: expect the best and not give up until we’ve got it.
Personally, I’d like to hold that as a goal for 2013. My record so far of moderate expectations and unspectacular success does not seem likely ever to accelerate into an Olympic gold-medal position of perfection unless I do something about it. But what? Well, while I work on my secret plan, I’ll cheekily propose an improvement in others that would make me feel happier.
Please, all I ask is that you make room for me on the pavement. I am fed up with always being the one who sidesteps into the gutter. And while I’m down here among the litter and the mud, I wonder what’s happened to the common courtesy of men walking on the outside? I’m fed up with my costume becoming soaked when the coach and four splashes through a puddle beside me. (I absolve all family and friends from this: their manners are exemplary.)
It isn’t a case of turning the clock back to try and inculcate old-fashioned manners: it is simply a matter of people remembering to be thoughtful and respectful, two qualities that make everyone’s world a better place.
With that in mind, here’s hoping you have a very happy New Year – and may we all stay out of the gutter through 2013.