James Proclaims!

In all likelihood this will be the last thing I post in January 2024 because January 2024 is almost over. As Januaries go, this has not been as eternal as some have felt in the past, which is possibly due to the fact that, as a result of some strange quirk in the UK school calendar this academic year, I didn’t return to work from the Christmas break until the 8th, when a sizeable chunk of January was already behind me.

I’m not generally a huge fan of January, which is not really the fault of January itself. It’s unfair to blame an arbitrary measurement of time for anything, but January, as well as having the tough act of following Christmas, is also, in the UK at least, beset by inclement weather and very little in the way of daylight. And lots of fads, which are theoretically designed to make people healthier but, unless healthy and miserable are synonyms, mainly fail on this score.

January 2024 has not been too bad on a personal level. Mini Proclaims has introduced me to several fruit-based flavours of vomit (blueberry being somewhat less pleasant than strawberry). These have increasingly consolidated a vaguely unpleasant aroma in the back seat of my car, which even the most industrious of unicorn-themed air fresheners has struggled to combat (Little Proclaims is quite insistent on the unicorn theme – I once purchased an alpaca-themed air freshener and the resulting outrage was palpable). However, I would not define my initial foray into 2024 as being predominantly centered around vomit.

I’m not sure how I would define it. I’m not certain a definition is even required. It’s been quite tolerable though. Even pleasant in parts. Being a parent of two small children often means that one day seems much like any other, and nothing much that goes on in my life would seem particularly exciting to others. I don’t think the younger incarnations of me would necessarily regard my current existence as something be desired. But I somehow feel that future versions of me might look back on this time as a golden era.

My career is not as successful as I might like it to be, but far more successful than I probably deserve it to be. My eternal struggles to not be overweight are mitigated somewhat by the fact that I am as fit as I have ever been at any time in my life. My house, while in need of much renovation and an industrious spring clean, is full of the kind of clutter that reminds me that it is lived in by people that I love.

It’s early on Sunday morning as I write this, and my wife and children are still sleeping. ‘Me-time’ is hard to come by in a small terraced house full of people. I had a similar moment on Saturday morning, until it was punctuated by the sound of Little Proclaims singing to her giggling sister. I enjoy having time to myself, but there is always a part of me that looks forward to the beginning of the morning song and the resulting chaos that will ensue.