02.01.2010 As the bliss-bubbles of the Christmastide ebb away, I face up to the prospect of a new year that has been trumpeted in by Captain Skint on his Frugal-horn. At the chime of midnight I was too busy having fun to hear his clarion call beneath a cacophony of TV fireworks: anticipating a reprisal of the gloomy pall of my last xmas, I hunkered down into the bosom of my lovely family and friends and have been smiling throughout. Yes, thanks to their generosity, I’ve even put on weight!  A sure sign of contentment given the usual metabolic levels which render my ribs visible and my frown in dire need of an iron.

In the good old bad days of last year it was lost love that interrupted my sleep. Now I wake up in a cold flat, my breathe visible, fretting about whether I can afford to switch on the donated heating apparatus. Laughable – and how we laughed knowingly a fortnight ago watching the scene where Withnail smothers himself in Deep Heat to shield him from the cold. It was my birthday and I started to get suspicions as others’ concerns started to manifest themselves in gift form – a woolly hat, gloves, house slippers, jumper, etc.  Hmmmm ….It’s like I’ve been transported back to the ragged, romantic existence I was living in the seven streets of Balsall Heath back in the early ’90s. At some point, in the interim period, I was deemed credit-worthy; and now (in these tricksy times) le Crunch is exposing my vulnerabilities. In little over a week I’ll start work on the new Talking Birds/Foursight Theatre show Forever In Your Debt and, as I find increasingly in this life of artistry, the mirror will be held up to nature.

Until then, one must be forced to tackle the daunting and humbling creative pursuit known as Tax Return.

Happy New Year, reader.

Here’s a final un-Wrap to Christmas