A new year, a new decade, and a wonderfully fitting yet ominous date with 1/1/11. One: the beginning. And how about a little cliché thrown in: a fresh start. O’ what better time to launch this experiment in self-discovery - a Jungian game of individuation.
I am a Londoner. But I am a reluctant Londoner. And I want to be a keen Londoner. No. More. An ardent Londoner. Ardent and unconditionally enamoured and dogmatically proud. YES!
The very fact that I’m writing this at a few minutes past midnight on new year’s eve speaks volumes about the relevance of this blog’s raison d’être. Yes, I stayed in. I couldn’t actually be bothered to indulge what London had to offer tonight. That’s what I want, or rather need changed by this time next year.
People make resolutions. Crap resolutions. It’s actually a rather ridiculous premise. I make predictions, that’s the business I’m in – I get paid to predict events every day. And I predict this blog will become obsolete by the year’s end. 2009 was dreadful, and I estimated an accurate 2010. Getting back on my feet after a turbulent year, and going through the motions: stable job, paid leave, love affairs, permanent wardrobe etc.
And so I predict 2011, with the new decade, will be the year where I will consolidate all this. What / who / where I am. It’s time for the line on the line chart to peak up and climb after a steady 12-month crawl. And with that comes the crux of the matter.
Will I learn to love London? I mean really love it, with all my heart. Will I beam when I walk through an East End market or on Waterloo Bridge throughout the year and not only when sun and skin is on show? Will I have a self-searched alternative mybestbits London guide at the ready to eagerly tour visiting friends? Will I actually lay some foundations here, be it bricks or boys?
Maybe. Just maybe.