Review of my year

I take my cue today from history's greatest diarist, Samuel Pepys, who at the end of each year looked back over his exploits of the previous year.

I am about to complete my second year of retirement, though it has still felt quite busy for all that. I have worked a number of sessions for our out-of-hours service, covering the bank holidays (understandable; they pay double then), but I have now decided to cease my involvement with them as an initial step towards winding down my responsibilities. Two other practices in the city have been quite anxious to use my services, and over the past year I have averaged out one extra session per week above my 1 1/3 sessions I still work for my old practice. This has provided useful extra income to the Pelagius coffers, though one does wonder whether I really need the extra cash. My NHS pension is handsome by most standards, and perhaps I should start getting used to living on that alone before I decide to do so in January of 2016.

At home we have have installed a new shower in our bathroom, though the workmen have had to call back on numerous occasions to put right little faults that have developed. And the power remains disappointing. If only we had a shower as good as the average gog standard unit you find in even the cheapest motel in the States. Now that would be heaven!

I have completed my autobiography and am in the process of trying to get it published. No defintive offers have emerged as yet, but I am aware that this bit of the process can be a lot harder than writing the damn thing, so I'll keep trying and try to remain patient. If all else fails I'll publish on line, but I'm giving myself most of next year to approach publishers in the UK, and perhaps in the US too. You never know your luck...

 Since the death in the summer of the second of two cats we acquired in 2008, in November we got two new kittens, a boisterous ginger tom called Rufus, and a rather more reserved calico cat called Matilda. They lighten our days with their chaotic antics. The last two cats we had, obtained from a cat rescue centre, must have been traumatised somehow before they arrived there. For weeks it was only possible to entice them from their hiding place behind the fridge with the promise of food. They ended up being able to relax, though they never learned to purr. By contrast, these two purr like lawnmowers at the slightest encouragement.

One of my friends made the helpful suggestion that, rather than getting cats we should adopt a child, but they clearly don't know me as well as they thought they did. She has been a semi-pro foster mum for years and is superb at her "job", even adopting one fully. But I couldn't take the stress of that kind of commitment, and my wife feels the same. I'm too old, too screwed up and far too selfish for that to work. So the cats it is. Let's hope they live a bit longer than the last two. When we lost Leon in July it was a shattering blow, bringing back all the feelings of loss from the death of my son. It was six years ago it is true, but the pain in many ways is as strong as it ever was.

We've had some good holidays this year; in Denmark (slightly marred by a viciously spasming back) and Sweden (when it had thankfully receded somewhat), in Paris in the Spring and a couple of fun weekends in London. But not many visits to the country, where we and everyone else has been hampered by one of the wettest years since the end of the last Ice Age. For Chrissakes, when's it going to fucking stop raining? Well at least we were never flooded, like thousands of others, many of whom were sold new houses built on floodplains. The builders didn't care; the government doesn't seem to care, so I guess they''ll go on being flooded next year too.

I wish you a dryer year in 2013, and a happier one too if you too have lost someone or something precious. Hey! The world didn't end, and that can't be bad. So let's go out next year and fulfil our potential as humans. Go for it people!