Avaragado's blog

Here’s the second of my annual posts, in which my friends and I offer ridiculous predictions for the year ahead.

Yes, it’s my annual brace of blog posts.

Our New Year’s Steve lunch took place as usual at the Town and Gown (né B Bar), after which I drunk-footed it to Stratford via rail-replacement bus and train to see in the new year in our nation’s capital but nowhere near the fireworks.

You know the drill.

Slightly depleted by Covid, which apparently no longer exists, a hardy group of six gathered at the traditional venue to celebrate the year end and commiserate the year start.

Oh, you again.

My Google Assistant had an interesting message for me this morning.

Sometimes you have an app experience that makes you wonder: has anyone involved, anyone at all, ever thought about how the app is used in practice?

Well, 2022 was a year, wasn’t it?

And so the Earth completes another ellipse around the Sun, and New Year’s Day arrives along with its traditions: the concert from Vienna with its polkas and waltzes, the wondering which shops will be open, and the results of last year’s predictions.