Happy New, Now What?

Here in Tweddley Manor, we’ve an old painting of my great-great grandmother who always sports a Santa hat during the festive period. Even though she's just a painting, when it's time for her to lose the hat, she looks sort of embarrassed to have been a part of all that frivolity, and has an awkward air about her, looking out from her picture frame with a ‘now what?’ expression. And as Christmas decorations come down all over LA, a new year begins in a similar vein.

When I was a kid, I wanted to keep the Christmas decorations up until the Summer. It’s cold and dark in Scotland in the winter, and the walk home from school always felt so much easier when there were wee, twinkling, colored Christmas tree lights from the windows.

But my Mum told me that if the tree wasn’t down by January 6th, then legend has it that the offending house would be invaded by elves causing mayhem. I remember thinking then that surely there must be worse things that could happen on January 6th than Christmas elves causing mayhem, and it turned out a few years ago I was right.

Anyway, as an adult I am fine about taking down the Christmas tree. I actually quite enjoy the point afterwards where the house looks kind of barren. Surprised even. Like it had a haircut and wasn’t expecting it.

Though, I’m looking a bit surprised myself at the moment, to be honest. The new year arrived bringing its first lesson which was, “Don't take the dog for a walk while carrying a mug of hot tea.” Especially one of those stay-hot mugs that keep the tea straight-from-the-kettle boiling hot.”

It's not a complicated story. Arthur spotted another dog and bolted forward when I wasn't expecting it. Super hot tea skooshed like a veritable geyser out the top of the stay-hot cup, making a pretty spectacle of my chin, neck, and chest.

And of course, you know what to do with burns. You cool them down, right? And then afterward maybe put on some Calamine lotion to take out the sting, just like your Mum used to do when you got sunburn, right? Wrong. Because it turns out you can find yourself allergic to calamine lotion, and basically you’re throwing oil onto the fire.

It's fine. Not pretty, but fine. I won't be shooting a L'Oreal beauty commercial any time soon, but I'm not full elephant man either.

Lachlan has been very insistent that, “Arthur didn't mean to do it.” And I’ve agreed. It's not his fault. He is just a dog.

I mean if I were looking for someone to blame, it would have to be me for taking hot tea out on a dog walk. But frankly, I'm too itchy to take responsibility for anything at the moment, so I'm just putting it down to ‘one of those things.’

What I will say though, is that Arthur is to compassion, what Florence Nightingale was to Death Metal Guitar solos - not particularly aligned. His response to any kind of difficulty is to suggest that more snacks/walks/general attention for him will help. So while I'm meant to be resting and letting my neck heal, Arthur does his very best to ‘help’ by being as needy as possible.

Mostly he wants me to take food out for the chickens. Arthur's favorite moment of any day is when I take out leftover rice or pasta for the chickens, and feed him some too. It should be simple but it's not. Chickens have personalities, and the phrase ‘pecking order’ doesn't come from nowhere. Genghis the rooster likes to be hand-fed, and Shelley is not at one with the idea of ‘sharing.’

You know in the early Disney movie of Snow White when she's feeding all the lovely little animals in the forest and singing a happy song?

Yeah, it's not like that at all. Not even close.

There’s feathery in-fighting, barking, stopping Shelley hogging all the food, while making sure Genghis doesn't feel ignored. And that’s on a good day. Add to the equation me and my neck burns, and the result is as chaotic as a household of avenging Christmas elves.

Anyway, my hot-tea-neck-experiment has been an interesting experience at this time of the year, when everything is about symbolism: “What does the next year hold for you? What can you learn from the past? What will the future bring?”

And lying about, trying not to scratch, I’ve had plenty of time to think about that. And here's what I've concluded as to what it all means:

I have no idea. None. Not all dogs are compassionate. Not all roosters are fierce, and not everything that’s meant to be healing really is.

Perfection happens in Disney movies, real life happens in splodges. Sometimes, it’s magic; sometimes, it feels like you're doing it wrong. Sometimes it feels like you're doing life completely right, but there are too many other douchebags doing it wrong.

Sometimes there's a reason tricky things happen. Other times there's none at all. I'm pretty certain your home will not be invaded by elves if you keep your Christmas decorations up till January 6th, but I can completely assure you that stay-hot cups really do get your tea staying boiling hot.

And as for the rest of it, I am clueless. So I’ve decided to look to my ancestors for the answer … or rather one ancestor in particular.

And therefore, on this, the first Sunday of January 2025, I offer you up a heartfelt, Happy New, Now What?

xo

Oh and PS - my first of the year - could you click on the heart like thingmy? yours needily, Lynn

Happy New, Now What - audio

Ooh PPS, did you know we’ve published another book? Here it is.

Volume 2 is available now: US, UK, Can, Aus

Audiobook link https://amzn.to/3Dh0MVP

If you do buy a copy, please leave a review on the site as it helps people know that I do write in proper sentences… sometimes xo