New Year, New Hope

Hello all

Happy New Year to everyone. I am sincerely hoping that this year turns out better than the last. I'm not sure I can endure the same level of antagonism and unsettling events. Some people (especially Dolores) reckon that my optimism is a sign that I am unprepared for the rigours of modern life. Maybe, but try as I might, I just can't become cynical about the world, even though I seem to upset the balance of things more often than I would like. The pending court case (my alleged assault on my former childhood nemesis, Toby Hancock-Jones whilst on holiday in Kings Lynn) has sobered me up a bit, as I'm really not sure which way things are going to go. I've been advised that a custodial sentence is a possibility. Not something I relish in the slightest. Can you imagine me in prison? I can't.

Denise handed in her notice yesterday. She's done this a few times before, citing a need to 'broaden her horizon'. Each time I question how resigning from a steady job with good rate of pay and undemanding workload could be better than entering a hostile labour market, and she goes away to think about things. I expect her to ask for her job back in the next day or two.

I realise as I write this that I have never completed the story of my flight to the forest. This is not entirely due to forgetfulness. You see, when I started writing this blog, I swore to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. The final installment of my temporary absence from civilisation contains events and dialogue that are potentially, er, incriminating. If I am to blog the truth of what happened, I must first make safeguards that my concerns are ill founded.

Oh dear, I do sense, in a purely rational analysis of the extant circumstances, and without a hint of unreasonable pessimism, that this year is becoming somewhat unsettling already.

J McC