Underpants : a metaphor for 2023

2023 has passed rather quietly 

In the list of special or even notable years , it has pretty much limped by, largely unnoticed by most of us.

Unseen, rather like the pair of underpants that straddle one of the beams above the kitchen patio

The ones with the holes I flung out of the bathroom window in the autumn.

Damp and somewhat unnoticed

The underpants and the year.

Now don’t get me wrong , there have been the highlights

The Sagrade Familia, the only building to have ever made me cry in public.

The Grande Canal in Venice,the biggest film set in the world.

Don Quixote at the Royal Opera House 

Falling in love with Sheffield all over again with “ Standing at the Sky’s Edge” 

The joyful ABBA Voyage, Les Misterables, Miss Saigon and La Traviata 

The reopening of the National Portrait Gallery,

Pedro Peascal, The Last of Us 

The proud return of the Trelawnyd Flower Show

Perhaps there was more to 2023 that met the eye!

The Stirling work by the TCA in saving the village hall for another couple of years, 

Auntie Glad’s death

Albert’s too

And being the oldest on my University course which now dominates every Tuesday with its hard work and challenging ways.

And here is 2024, just ahead

And I won’t lie, it daunts me a little.

I will still book things ahead of time

Things to look forward to…it’s my way

Indeed in two weeks it’s Backstairs Billy at The Duke Of York’s with Nu

What fun! 

But the loneliness remains a little hard to take especially on winter days like these

Where the wind gives you a shiver only a hug can remove 

Affable Despot Jason , has just knocked on the lane window

It’s almost dark , but you can still see his wide grin in the gloom

He invited me up to the Hall Party later tonight

Happy New Year xx