December 27. It’s all over, bar the fat lady singing. But sadly for the little ones, the visit to the panto will have to wait until the coffers are a bit fuller.
There’s no point dwelling in the past. Nice Mister Access will be writing us a letter about that in a week or two, reminding us of exactly how much we shouldn’t have spent on all those goodies that now lie smashed and scattered all over the sitting room floor.
No, these dog days between Christmas and New Year are best spent forgetting the past and preparing for the future.
And what better crystal ball than Olde Dixonne’s Almanacke, a True and Accurate Prognosticationne of Eventes to Comme in the Yeare of Oure Lorde 2008, Includyngge Tide Tables, Racyngge Forme and Completionne Dates for Sundrye Publicke Edifices in the Citye of Batthe in the Countye of Somersetteshyre.
(That last bit was supposed to be printed in Olde Englysshe type but the management wouldn’t stump up for it. So you’ll have to use your imagination.)
Now not a million miles away from this column is that written by Mr Holliday, who is quite proud of his predictions from the end of 2006 for the year that is now grinding to a halt. But come on: Gordon Brown Prime Minister by June; Bath City get promoted; change of council for Bath? Those were easy. Olde Dixonne has bigger fish to fry:
New Year sales. Safe bet, stick with it.
Snow! It’s pitching! At least half an inch of it! Schools close early so that teachers can make snowmen. Trains and buses mysteriously cease to exist.
The afternoon of the fifth, to be precise: it’s the Grand National. This one’s an dead cert: it’s been checked on the internet. Who’s going to win? Haven’t got a clue, ask the bookies.
You will meet a tall, dark stranger. Or perhaps not. Only time will tell.
Responding to criticism of artistic elitism, the Bath Festivals Trust organises a weekend of free beer in Royal Victoria Park. Result!
Cancelled due to mass hangover.
Fathers across the country rack their wits to work out how to afford a holiday while they’re still paying for last year’s.
All drivers parking in Homebase car park actually go shopping in Homebase. Homebase shares rocket. Homebase floor collapses from the strain.
Did we do the tall, dark stranger? Damn.
Contractors working on SouthGate in Bath halt excavation when they discover not an unexploded bomb, not a new hot spring, but...
...a pirate chest full of buried treasure, abandoned when the notorious Jack ‘Three Fingers’ Trelawney took a wrong turning up the Avon at Bristol.
The builders realise they’ll get a better profit from selling the treasure than they ever would out of developing shopping centres, and dance off into the sunset, leaving Bathonians wondering how to fill a giant crater.
After a disaster with the beetroot soup, columnist’s spouse sets fire to cookbook and fills house with smoke.
No, wait, that was this year. It could never happen again.
Or could it...?
This column was first published in The Bath Chronicle on December 27 2007. Copyright Bath News & Media 2007.