Year End. RM2016

And so, once again, it’s here:

The sun has set on December the 31st –  not only the day but the year.

New beginnings; dawning sunrise; fresh prospects

And another 365 days spread out before us.

 

A blank canvas upon which to print our marks, we are told, but

Coupled with embracing the new, is dismissing the old.

 

Waving goodbye to a year which has shared sadness for many of us,

With strange and bewildering world events and unexpected losses

 

But it is easy to forget that time and dates and years are but social constructs, and as we go to bed tonight, and wake up tomorrow in a new year, nothing has changed but our perceptions, and no year is fortuitous or otherwise.

 

2016 has not worn a robe of death and doom,

And the path of the future is untrodden until we tread it.

 

 

But there is nothing wrong with pausing and taking a breath and starting anew;

And telling ourselves that this year will be better, stronger, ours. Me and you.
 

 

The seasons will change, and the coming months coming after.

Will offer us all challenges, surprises, sadness, joy and laughter.

We cannot necessarily control what lies ahead, but we can control the way we face it.

 

So, the last twelve months have contained

Birdsong and dew; sunshine and rain;

Huge moons, bright stars, births, deaths and pain,

 

Laughter and joy watching lovers get wed,

Wiping away tears for what they have said,

 

New friends and chances, lifetime goals,

People embedding into other souls,
 

 

Walks in the sunshine, family and travel.

Feeling numb and impotent, watching fear unravel

 

 

Circumstances dictating no choice

Realisation of possession of a new voice

 

Moons rising, suns setting,

(surely both ways round)

Blissful ears taking in new sound

 

Always feeling that there’s something more

Finding that something worth searching for

Reconnections and losses, inexplicable news

Respect and challenge; opposing views

 

And through it all, the wiping of tears and putting plasters on grazes.

 

And finding joy in something small.

Pleasure in the knowledge that loved ones have happiness

And sharing sad times when grief consumes all.

 

 

I don’t really get involved in the dawning of a new year,

When I know that challenges and chances are always around,

Despite our best attempts to compartmentalise, ration and define.

 

 

Tomorrow is the first of the first, and as I do every year, I will acknowledge it in some small way

Then I’ll just keep living, like it’s another day.

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Threading. It’s the future.

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Well, everybody – big news on the Bectora front – I had my eyebrows threaded this week for the first time in a while.

If you don’t know what eyebrow threading is, let me bring you up to speed…

Threading is an alternative to plucking, where a length of cotton is doubled over and sort-of twisted, and then you pay another person to use this cotton to grab a whole bunch of hairs from your eyelid, and yank them out at break-neck speed.

Truth is that it’s quick and effective. It hurts less than waxing, and takes much less time than tweezing, but good lord, we do some things to ourselves in the name of vanity.

I’ve had mine threaded about half a dozen times, and each time, my eyelid and the surrounding areas are a little sore and a little tender for about 12 hours afterwards, and my eyes water like I’ve been peeling onions while watching Blood Brothers – but here’s the thing:

I kinda like the pain.

It gets addictive. It’s over in moments, and when it’s finished, your whole face changes. The little specks of blood that persist are merely testament to your commitment to the art, and because you have been sitting in a salon chair under some treatment lights, you almost feel that you’ve been pampered and earned it.

So, I wholeheartedly recommend threading. I almost look forward to the hairs growing back, so I can have another go, and I have a rather sadistic desire to watch someone with really bushy brows go through it.

But I draw the line at upper lip and chinny-chin-chin.

 

I’m not an idiot!