New but not new

I’ve always hated new year. It probably didn’t help that my grandad died on New Year’s Eve, suddenly from a heart attack in his late fifties and so my mum was always sad on that day but my dislike of the celebration started even before that. As a child I thought that New Year’s Eve was when everyone died. A huge celebrity cull happened in the night to make way for all the babies that would be born that year. All their deaths were announced on the radio the next day. My first memory of this thought is from before I was 4. I was sitting in our bungalow playing with my dolls house that Dad had made with independent working lights for each room, while my parents sat, with a cup of tea, probably nursing hangovers, listening to the radio.
“Oh, Enid Blyton!” Mum said, “That’s sad. No more Far Away Tree.”
It’s what made me listen. My bedtime story had been Moon-face, pixies, fairies and men covered in saucepans. I was quite upset that I’d not get to find out what happened. They explained that although Enid Blyton had died the books would always be there but she wouldn’t be able to write any new ones. Then, bizarrely, Dad launched into a comedy sketch about blood and an armful and everyone was laughing again. Somehow, the idea that New Year’s Eve was death day stuck.

No matter how old I get, I still don’t like New Year.

There’s something fake about it. It isn’t new. This year, it was a Wednesday. A Wednesday that followed a Tuesday and was followed by a Thursday. There were still mince pies for breakfast and left-over cheese for tea. All the worries, difficulties, problems and happiness were the same as they had been the day before. Then social media fills with fake positivity. We are all encouraged to find a ‘new you’, as if somehow the old one wasn’t good enough. We are going to have new habits. We will have a dry January. We’ll go vegan. Eight pints of water before breakfast? No problem. We will be kind; never have a wicked thought; turn the tap off between brushing our teeth; run a marathon; save the planet; adopt a dolphin; read 100 books; walk a thousand miles; start a daily yoga practice. And we will have more time and energy.

If I sound a little grumpy then I apologise. Don’t let me stop you being more, if you want to. I can’t knock any of those self improvement goals. That would be hypocritical because I have combined reading and walking to be able to fit these things in.

I think I’m grumpy because today is moving but not moving day. The sale of my parents house should go through today and my sister will move into her new home. I’m not going anywhere and nothing is changing for me. I’ve done more charity shop runs, sold more furniture and cleaned more cupboards than I thought possible but my life will be the same afterwards. It’s a weird feeling. It reminds me of New Year. New but not new.