Level 2023

It’s a New Year, as of today. 2023. Happy New Year!

Because it all happens in the twilight zone after Christmas, I find I have too much time on my hands and I think about these things far too much. That’s why my New Year posts are often a bit morose and navel-gazing. No change this year.

I’ve been walking around the town as the sunlight fades from 2022 for the very last time. I didn’t have any particular mission. I dropped into the office to make sure that everything was still in one piece. I waved at the butcher. I contemplated buying some more chocolate in the 2 Euro Shop but, in the end, I didn’t. I have enough.

What did I conclude, after all my walking and butcher-waving and such? Where did I end up?

I’ll tell you.

I think each year is a bit like a video game. Not any specific video game but rather a generic one where you’re playing a character who is running, running, running through a world and, as he’s running, running, running along, all kinds of things are being thrown at him and all kinds of obstacles are in his way. He has to keep running but also constantly duck and jump and roll and swerve and exclaim loudly… it’s Crash Bandicoot, isn’t it? It sure sounds like Crash Bandicoot to me. I’ve never played it myself but I watched the boys play it when they were younger. It was fairly manic.

And every year that comes along is just the same. Manic. I’ll run and jump and duck and dive and swerve and exclaim loudly, just like ol’ Crash used to do.

Christmas is like the end of a level. I get a break. I rest up. But I also lose the knack of playing the level. The prospect of starting the next level – Level 2023 – becomes a bit scary and daunting. Can I do it all over again? I’m not sure. My fingers twitch and I duck a little from side to side, even though there’s nothing to dodge yet, nor for another few days.

But it will all be okay. Why? Because it always is. I haven’t forgotten how to duck and swerve. The muscle memory is all there, intact, and ready to roll. As soon as the first spear (or whatever) gets chucked at me, I’ll be off again, making my moves.

From this vista, it all looks and sounds terrible. A nightmare of never-ending challenges and stresses and breathless exertion. It isn’t though. It’s all rather great. It’s a buzz. Things get done. People and their needs get served. The world turns once again, having paused for a week or so.

It’ll all be fine.

We’ll wish each other a Happy New Year and kick back one more time and then off we’ll go again, full tilt into Level 2023.

So I hope you have a Happy New Year. I really mean it too. When I was young, it was just something you’d shout on a dance floor in a vain hope that a brief snog might follow. But with each passing year, it means more.

I hope you keep your health, whatever health you have, and if it is not good health, I hope it improves. I hope you are as happy as you can feasibly be and that you can keep the people you love similarly feasibly happy. I hope those loved ones can stay around for this next turn of the sun, and many turns after that. I hope at least one of your wishes comes through, so long as nobody gets wounded in the process. I wish you good ducking and good diving, good weaving and swerving and jumping and sliding.

This new level? 2023? Knock it out of the park.

I hope you high score it.