Saturday, 1 January 2011


I saw my dog today. Well, when I say 'my' dog, it doesn't actually belong to me, but is the kind of dog I'd have if I had one.  Come to think of it, I'd have whatever dog I had if I had one, else I wouldn't have one whilst having one, and that would be surreal nonsense. Not to mention nondog. But it wouldn't necessarily be that kind of dog, although it would undoubtedly be mine. 'Cos I could show you the receipt.  But why would I have a dog I didn't want? I may be menopausal, but I'm not completely ironing board.        


Anyway (any reason you're being so pedantic?  Possibly the hangover? Hmm.)  Anyway...why was it 'my' dog?  Two reasons. The first being it looked like a giant, long-haired teddy bear, gambolling about joyously on the beach; a puppy, even though it was bigger than I am.  The second reason is that it was a very fetching shade of grey, and matched what I was wearing. The third reason (thought you were too ill to count?) becoming apparent when a jogger ran past it. My dog was sitting down quietly. He looked at the jogger approach from the right, and then turned his head to follow the jogger's progress to the left.  And I swear from the look on that animal's face he was thinking 'w*nker'.

That's my dog alright.

It's been a lovely New Year's Day. I was awoken with a text from my friend Luke, who invited me to coffee downtown, and so I leapt into the shower and dashed out into the glorious weather that has finally arrived after weeks of relentless rain. We sat under a heater at a pavement cafe in the Palais de Justice square, and I enjoyed an enormous mug of chocolat chaud, whilst Luke regaled me with the tale of his New Year's Eve celebration standing outside a nightclub. (Let's be kind and imagine it had no doors.  What's happened to your Christmas spirit?)

After gossiping for an hour or so we then walked along the Promenade, gazing at the amazingly beautiful clouds and occasional bursts of blue sky, which enabled the stunning rays of the sun to spill down onto the peacock blue sea.  We listened to a saxophone player busking to his jazzy backing tracks, and eventually ambled along to the Negresco Hotel; a wacky local landmark I will fill you in on another time.

We parted company here, and I walked slowly back along the seafront, taking in the glory that nature had bestowed upon the first day of Nice's year.  I then made my way home to answer emails, chat to friends on social networks, and spend ten minutes of my life endeavouring to open a bottle of cheap fizz.  A glass of which I now toast my readers with.

I wish each of you whatever you wish for yourselves this coming year. As I do myself.  If life is a journey, last year for me was being stuck at a motorway service station, watching other traffic zoom past in an unimpeded way to its destination, whilst I was waiting for the tow truck to deliver me back to where I'd started from, being told my big end had gone and that it was going to cost me.

But that was 2010.

A warm welcome to 2011.

Happy New Year.


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Please be nice, but not funnier than me. Thanks.