How to survive New Year.

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Big red wine, blue cheese, Brie, goat’s cheese. Not a soft, mild goat’s cheese but a very ripe one that sends clouds of farmyard vapour swirling around the kitchen when you bite into it. Pâté, chutney, piccalilli, garlic bread. New Year’s eating. Now it’s all gone and I’ve taken my overfed carcass outside wrapped in a heavy coat, new scarf and battered black fedora. Underwear as well of course, and boots. Under the big fir tree and in fine drizzle I settle on an old, decaying log with Clonakilty whiskey, a newspaper to sit on, my thinking addled with Kierkegaard, and there I flatulate till I’m done. How was your New Year?