Pessimism and Dog Penises
It's only Week 1 of 2024, and there're already a few surprises...
To see how Sam Pepys spent this week 364 years ago, follow this link.
Superstition says that what you’re doing on the stroke of midnight is supposed to give an indication of your year ahead. This year, Ermma and I were sat in our dining room at Pepys House, kittens both nearby, logged into the Pandemic Pluckers’ Zoom Room to share a Happy Hogmanay with them and Mummy Rose. Ermma and I managed a quick peck on the lips.
So can we suppose 2024 will have themes of family, friendship, and music, all in a house of heritage, with a little bit of time for Us squeezed in? I suppose that’s not bad…
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The first two days of the year were quite restful, at least by comparison to last y– …well, life-do-date, to be honest. Ermma’s idea of rest, y’see, was ‘housework’, so we were still up and active.
Ermma let me cook dinner on New Year’s Day. That’s unusual, though not ‘coz I’m bad at cooking. Far from it: there are many out there, including Ermma, who’ve enjoyed my culinary fun. It’s just Ermma enjoys cooking more, so prefers to think of the kitchen as her domain.
By Wednesday, though, I was back into work. It was pretty full-on, too, confirming budgets with the boss, developing new booking processes for clients and staff, checking in with my tutees’ carers… By the end of the day, I realised I’d done nothing towards the Biggest Book Launch In My Life Ever, Yikes! (or ‘BBLIMEY’, as it’ll be known from now on) – and BBLIMEY, that’s in three weeks…
That’s three weeks in which I need to ensure all proofs are implemented, merchandise designed and purchased, deposit for bar laid down, book stall space agreed, assistants in place, presentation finalised… oh, and now the boss wants me to design branded clothing for the assistants to wear.
You can go without sleep for three weeks, right?
If the first few days of trying were anything to go by, it wasn’t good for my mood. Even though Mummy Rose had arrived Wednesday night, I couldn’t shake the sense that things were gonna go wrong. So when they did go wrong, my sour mood was compounded: the company hosting my book launch seemed to be moving the goal posts, the scoreboard, and the exit from the stadium.
That’s the problem with pessimism: you think you’ll feel satisfied when things go as bad as you expect, but instead you feel bleak before and during the damage.
But I woke on Friday with my cough finally gone(ish), and a realisation that my earlier sourness had sharpened my thoughts as to what the BBLIMEY would look like. This fired up my engine (or, to put it more greenly, ‘charged my EV’), and I was soon ticking off plenty of tasks from my To Do list…
…just in time for our Twelfth Night meal! Mum and DadDad Sutcliffe came round to join us for coals burning cosily in the fireplace, a vegan Christmas pudding for the mums and me (Ermma and DadDad had brownie), and plenty of delightful conversation. We then adjourned to the drawing room with the decision made to watch a comedy – one Ermma and I had found hilarious in trailer form: Strays.
Had we watched it first, we maybe wouldn’t’ve picked this film to watch with our parents – but we were glad we did. Yes, it meant our Epiphany night involved far more exposure to dog penises than we’d expected – but it united us in both laughter and emotion. If it wasn’t for the language – and probably also the penises – the film could’ve appealed to all ages from toddler: it had fun action, heaps of hilarity, and was even quite touching on more than one occasion.
‘Twas just the unrepentant and relentless crudeness that would prevent us recommending it to everyone we know…
By the end of the week, the parents had all gone, and Tito cuddled up with Ermma and me beside a roaring wood burner to enjoy something much more innocent: Disney’s Big Hero 6.
Pippa rarely joins us in the drawing room – but that New Year’s superstition suggested this could be the year she grows closer to us. After all, it had proven quite accurate for the week so far, what with there being plenty of family, friendship, and dog penises, all in this house of heritage, with a little bit of time for Us squeezed in at the end.
That was right, right?
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