The first day of 2010, of the teenies, the tweenies or whatever we have to call the incipient decade. If I can get through today without any catastrophes, then it bodes well for the remaining 365.
Alas, we suffer a minor catastrophe when I cajole my protesting family out into Siberian Surrey for our annual New Year SAS-style walk, although Lily and Daisy are spared the 10kg rucksacks. All I intend is a short, pleasant stroll down by the canal. It starts off well enough, we feed a couple of ducks and the fearsome swan. Then, the path starts to become slippery and muddy, but we plough on, for I am sure the ground will harden soon. Except it does not. I end up marooning my offspring in a fetid quagmire and am forced to carry my moaning tots on my shoulders.
I forgot: they are allergic to mud.
The swan is still there on the return journey, barely able to stifle its laughter as my screaming daughters clamber over me. Meanwhile, my wife is complaining that her “Hunter” Wellington boots are muddy. I retort that that is precisely what they are made for…I did not buy them at considerable expense to make a fashion statement.
In the evening, I cook up some pesto pasta with a bottle of Ca’Macanda Magari ’06 from Aneglo Gaja in order to start 2010 in vinous style.