2006. It'll be great...

Firstly, happy 2006 to all clack attack addicts. I think i might just call you clackaddicts from now on, although i don't promise the excitement that telly addicts used to provide. but i will try my best.

I had 5 invites for new years eve, which is some kind of record, and at one point had thought about trying to get to at least three of them, but then i decided i was in a crap mood, and therefore went for my most low key option and stayed there. So 2006 arrived (well, at least in the world of tim) accompanied by Jools Holland's Hootenanny, Twister (which i won, and any claims that i cheated by sitting on people are clearly false, i mean, everyone knows that the best form of defence is attack), budweiser and cheap and not very nice cava . This was done in the company of a select few of exciting indiviuals who i love dearly (and assorted sisters that i hadn't met before, but for the purposes of this post i love them dearly too). Namely Kirsty, Adam, Rachel, Louise, Little Kirsty and Little Laura. It was nice. And then i had to get up to play guitar at an alarmingly busy church this morning (clearly not enough was being drunk last night), although unfortunately noone seemed to notice the incidental music being played as people were praying at the end, which thinking about it is probably a good thing cos i'd have got told off for messing around otherwise. (Kid's song 'All Around The World' is almost identical to 'Auld Lang Syne'. Fact.)

In my rather bored tired and depressed state of the last few days (i am feeling very much like i need to escape south london for a bit, but luckily i only have a week before i go to north wales, which is going to be great) i've been thinking a lot about the year to come, and what its going to hold for the clack attack. and its going to be an interesting one. Using my top crystal ball skills, I have come up with the following exciting 'almanac' for the next year, which will be posted in parts over the next few days. I'll judge its accuracy at the end of the year....

JANUARY...

...starts in an exciting manner, as i have my first real proper job interview in months (its this friday). South West Trains immediatly see that i am a glutton for punishment, and appoint me with no real questions asked to the post of 'revenue protection assistant' at and around Wimbledon. By the end of the month i have perfected my 'tickets please' announcement, and am giving out penalty fares left right and centre. Clearly a promotion is on the cards.

The 2006 wife hunt also starts in earnest at the YFC staff conference in north wales, where i meet the future wife of my dreams (scoring full marks on the Jon Brook test, as she can cook, clean and dance). For the purposes of this post she is called Doris (crystal balls arent very exact) and she happens to also be looking for a husband, preferably a part time ticket inspector in his early 20's. She lives in North East Scotland, but oh well, you can't have everything and I don't see it as a big problem as within 3 days we have discovered that we are clearly very much in love.

FEBRUARY...

... is a thrilling time for me. The effects of global warming are felt big time in London, where for most of them month we are under 3 feet of snow. This means no trains can run, and i get paid for not doing anything for an entire month. i decide to go visit Doris in north east scotland, and she teaches me to ski, which is the kind of thing that only happens when you are very much in love. My skiing ability is a revelation, and within 3 days I am good enough to be picked for the Olympic team, and spend the second half of the month in Turin winning 3 gold medals at the winter olympics. Rumours abound that this is only because i manage to mortally wound all the other competitors in a game of twister the night before, and although i am briefly disqualified, i protest to the olympic comittee that 'everyone knows that the best form of defence is attack' and am quickly reinstated. I fly home with my medals before anyone spots the motors on the back of my skis. At soon as i arrive home i melt down the medals and send them to DNA, which nearly pays off my fees from last year.

MARCH...

... quickly sees a return to reality, because although i may be 3 time olympic champion, noone will actually care about skiing again till next year, so i return to the day job of getting abuse from the ticketless teenagers of South West London.

Most importantly, March brings with it a weekend of festivities to celebrate the fact that i have somehow lived to the age of 21. This includes a DNA reunion (not strictly a birthday celebration, but its the day before so it becomes one anyway) and the excitement of 'TimIs21Vent' (where all the best young bands in Kingston get too drunk to play and i end up doing 3 hours of Pirate Fiasco classics. Which involves playing the same songs 12 times). We also go banger racing, where i am delighted to find that as a present i have been entered into the plough lane classic race in my dads old rover. I don't let the fact that the closest i have ever got to driving a real car is on Gran Turismo 2 on the playstation worry me, and i storm to victory, and am proclaimed the most talented young racer on the planet today. However, in the destruction derby at the end of the meeting i am involved in a nasty head on collision with a ford granada, and break both my legs. Which in a way is lucky, as it puts me on sick leave for 4 months and there is no way that i would have passed an alcohol screening on the monday morning after my 21st birthday.





Not a bad start to the year, i think you'll find. but its about to get weird.... Goodnight.