INCEPTION

Today is the day my 50 weeks to the end of 2011 start counting down and I was hoping for a leisurely beginning, lounging abed in Proustian reflection before my first post. Instead we have to make an early-morning visit to the vet because our dog, Ozzy, has a suddenly swollen face. This turns out to be due to a tooth abcess, which in keeping with my blog's organising principle, costs us £50 for treatment. Twenty minutes waiting in the company of a wailing cat and barking dogs, contemplating giant plastic fleas in a glass display case then a minor prang backing out of the car park complete my morning's discombobulation. The only thing Proustian left me are heavy-lidded eyes.
Howsoever this blog later progresses, not posting on day one of week one would be the most inauspicious of beginnings. I believe in auspice (and other life-enhancing superstition) - when it suits. Gratifyingly, the morning's domestics have swiped away the mounting pressure I had been feeling to begin with something impressive. As a mate of Bill Clinton (and any one else of note he could ingratiate himself with) liked to hum, 'Things can only get better'.
Now, I'm off to touch wood to avert the hubris that has made him so memorable, even though I may have left it too late for today.

pip-pip