Luncheon break scribblings.

January 2nd, 2019 @ 12:55 (British Real Time)

Christmas is nearing its end for another year…. 

I wish that ‘new year’ was not on January the first. In my mind I think that it would be much better if New Year’s Eve was at the beginning of winter and new years day was the first day of spring.It would of course mean that new years eve would not technically be the eve of new years day, but it would help focus the mind on things such as ‘new year resolutions’. How much more likely is someone going to give up things such heavily drinking alcohol, smoking or consuming more calories than they burn off, if a resolution could be announced at the beginning of winter and gradually prepared for, over the course of three months, until April showers are only a week or two away? Why does New Year’s Day have to be on January the first and not the first day of spring? It would make for some interesting possibilities too, the birth of New Year Tourists, who travel the world to experience all the first days of spring in one calendar year. The celebrations would coincide with all sort of traditional festivals that occur in springtime. This would annoy some people, but on the other hand it could help draw attention to old traditions which get overshadowed by chocolate eggs and the like. 

   I don’t know. 

 

   I seem to recall reading somewhere that new year in England used to be in March, until it was changed to January the first at some point in the seventeenth century.

   Am I alone in thinking that January 1st is a silly time  for our yearly calendars to begin? 

Some interesting things have occurred recently, that I am itching to write about, but I prefer to wait until at least a few weeks pass before writing about recent experiences. When an experience is fresh in my mind, it is easy for me to overlook subtle details that are not apparent in the moment, so I have decided to write daily entries in a private diary, which hopefully will help keep memories as fresh as possible.

   I am now certain that I have what it takes to write a good book or two one day. I’m just lacking most of the skills that are needed.  

   I am starting to realise how the relevant skills can be obtained without the need of going to college and university etc. it’s all about reading books and conjuring up exercises that’ll help lead to text that is original, but eerily familiar to readers of writers such as Charles Dickens, Charles Bukowski, William Cowper, Charles Wesley, William Shakespeare, Peter Hitchens, Christopher Hitchens, George Orwell, John Betjeman, John Wesley, Josephine Tey, Arthur Conan Doyle. Those are just a handful of names in an ever lengthening list of writers who I enjoy reading.

   I don’t intend to copy any of them publicly (Any of those effort will stay in the bottom drawer) , or dare to knowingly try emulating any of their many achievements… 

   I am just starting to note down favourite essays, paragraphs, verses, phrases, chapters etc.. When studying a Hymn I like, I will not be concentrating so much on what it actually means, but more on how it is written, (of course though, finding the meaning is extremely important to me!) How many syllables are there in each line?  I will ask a similar question in the paragraphs I most enjoy. How many syllables are there in each sentence, and how many sentences are there in each paragraph?

   I am going to be concentrating on many things, syllables being  just one example. It will be fun to take old scraps of scribble I’ve written in the past and rewrite them using the same amount of syllables of a certain poem, of opening paragraphs of a favourite novel etc., this will surely help me with structuring sentences and gradually, very gradually, develop good styles of writing in different forms that are original, but also respectful to what has come before. Maybe over time I will officially become a Christian a half decent hymn writer,  maybe skilfully written poetic thoughts of the distant past will be injected into my modern soul with the skills necessary to become a 4th rate poet. Maybe I am on the verge of becoming an almost-teetotalist and the money saved from cutting out certain bad habits will encourage me to work a lot harder and to widen my horizons of experience in my spare time. In the minds of many I know, my hopes and dreams might seem quite lofty for a man who is less than five months away from becoming forty-two. An ex cellar man, ex shelf stacker, ex betting facilitator, ex motorway service station worker, ex debt enabler, ex drug taker, ex drunk, ex psychiatric patient. 

  I  probably come across as self-obsessed, and the accusations of having delusions of grandeur I fear are never far away if I do express my thoughts in full to anyone I come across who pretends to listen.

  I have all the motivation a man needs.

  I intend to be a married man by the end of this year. There is a slight possibility that I may get married somewhere in Ireland. It is almost unbelievable how much more focused one becomes when lifelong marriage seems to be just round the corner. Many things that seemed impossible only a few years ago, or even a few months or weeks ago, are now hopes and dreams that I believe can be fulfilled with plenty of hard work and a large, but fair amount of good luck.

   I have been intending to cease with these electronic scribblings for a while, but I do not want to. I don’t see what harm could be caused to the possible the reader or two. If my behaviour involves standing outside the readers office or home, reciting my thoughts through a megaphone, then that would obviously not be healthy. But these words being written will either be read or they won’t.  Lunch break is nearly over.

 

Office clerk.

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