I gave up a long time ago on this self-delusional idea that a totally arbitrary date could be the new start to a better future, and it's become even more self-delusional now that there isn't much of a future left, better or otherwise. However, old habits die hard and I still tend to become introspective as yet another year ends.
I spent the last couple of days ringing a few mobile numbers of long-ago acquaintances whom I hadn't been in contact with since last Christmas. On several occasions I drew the "Sorry this line is no longer connected"-message which is always a bad sign, especially with people who no longer have a landline. I mean, why would they drop their only means of communications? Unless they'd been harrassed by some debt-collectors for child-support or whatever, the only other likely cause is that they, like Leo McKern in one of my favourite movies, have "travelled north".
Perhaps it's time to watch this movie again. It reminds me of the time when I was still harbouring hopes that one day I would return to the tropical north. Two of my friends did it - take a bow, Peter in Cairns and Hubert in Cooktown - and I shall raise a glass of retsina to their health as I watch Leo McKern in "Travelling North" again, a deeply moving comedy with insightful ruminations on youth, vigour, ageing and death.
It's the perfect antidote against my shingles which are still troubling me, and all the other things starting with shi... that are troubling the world.
