It’s 2022. Yessiree Bob.
It’s 2022. In many ways all anybody wants is some cause for optimism and a better world. I’d like to get travelling again having been locked away in my London premises (and NHS locations) for the past two years.
So I have good news, in so many ways. Please bear with me.
Firstly, I have discovered why I generally dislike Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream products. It’s because I’m not convinced that including pieces of carpet within the comestible is ideal texturally, let alone helpful to youngsters wishing to retain a decent set of gnashers.
Secondly, I’m about to start looking at travelling again to places that will accept my credit cards and that require suntan creams galore.
Thirdly, I’m in the process of releasing into the Wild 22 songs for ‘22 in superdemo form that simply need my enterprising Publishers to remember who I am, listen and then book Taylor Swift (or buddies inc. Lara, Sarah, Jake and Neil) to record and instantly convert into massive hits and tunes, and then we’ll all be happy. We will, really. One is called “Just Like Mariah Carey”.
FOURTHLY, and in some ways most importantly, I’ve come to realise that at least 20cl Bailey’s Irish Cream over ice can bring a smile to even the most war ravaged of COVID-ridden taste buddettes, especially after a glass or two of San Miguel cerveza, having caught up with another episode of The West Wing. So please. Have some. Send me the bill, and I’ll put it happily in the recycling for you, along with my 7 bottles of Bailey’s.
OH AND IT HAS TO BE FACED. I’M OLD. That’s OFFICIAL. 65.
So old in fact that in the new Sex and The City revival, “Carrie confronts her hip replacement” sounded current and exciting. But if I can get from A TO P without so much as a colostomy bag to worry about, and still “do stuff” and “see sights”, well I think I should, as I believe should we all, Dearest Reader.
I’ll buy you all a Bailey’s.
This. Betwixt this and any other Interim is gently back with a hoarse whisper and hopefully I’ll be bringing all the hot poop from the hotspots of this planet before you can say “Thanks for Everything Betty White (R.I.P.)”.
By the way, if you believe the TV commercials, the WORD for 2022 is:
“Plant”.
Watch this, and That too. And watch yourselves while you’re about it.