Same shit, different year

Woohoo! All is quiet, on New Year's Day. Broken bottles under children's feet... Well, not quite, but I step out into the new world of January 1 and it seems like the night before is still with us the next day. Abandoned wine bottles strew the pavements, a bloke staggers in his shirt sleeves, music from a flat suggests the party goes on. They cling to a past that is dead. This is the new year. We are already on diets, off the wagon by lunchtime, Amazon basket full of improving products, columns read on how to change your life and be absolutely amazing in seven easy steps. 

This is the worst time of year to buy into the concept of self-improvement, asceticism and all-round go-getting jollity. It's also a strategic failure to be hungover. Today is like yesterday. Though of course it isn't. It's a minute or two lighter. The sun will return one day,. Until then we go on, into the blue. But for now, I go to the park to say hi to the ducks and hope that this year will be better for the birds, though somehow I guess it'll be pretty much the same as last year. Hope? I hope so..