Seasons Greetings: scintillating pinpricks of joy leaven 2012’s concluding chronicle, a damp Albion pervading, but I’m still here in my bubble! 

Almost five decades of memorable mid-winter festivities survived; reflections on events (at the bottom-you'll have to wait), memories of loved ones that have passed on, friendships honed or ended, new beginnings, opportunities rising-taken up or discarded; Grianstad an Gheimhridh is the rarely used Celtic celebration of the solstice, often dramatised by shafts of the dawn light striking the depths of caves, announcing the new year, growth not decay, spring after bleak midwinter, of course as a recovering addict I don’t wake up like a ‘Blackened Thront’ !

I have recently learned from my ‘sick pay’ managers that they do not expect me to return to ‘work’ for another year-so another year of living on £10 a day. One alternative, that of ‘jails, institutions or death’- relapsing - does not appeal; my gratitude to my adored sister, Annie, for her role in getting me into recovery cannot be exaggerated - the doctors said I would not have lived much longer, not that the ‘life’ I had was of any value - and her continued support is invaluable, especially considering other, more important, pressures on her. Renewal and rebirth works, not repetition other than at a cellular level, I truly believe my journey through recovery is an example of looking forward with hope, noting but not dwelling on past misdeeds. Amends have been made, where possible, to all affected by my drunkenness, and even though some have chosen to ignore my ameliorative advances or possibly misunderstood them, I again offer my sincere, unreserved apologies.

The upside of being ‘off sick’ for another year is being able to continue my work with youths and young adults with special needs. The joy of witnessing: an 'imprisoned in their mind' ASD mortal realising they can 'drive' a boat, the calmness of a higher level ASD soul watching the water and 'their mermaids', the incredulity of an EBD cocooned soul allowed to control a boat, the realisation of the excluded that they can do things without guards present; it's quite incredible. Often it is quiet comments that hit home hardest, one guy mentioned we were the first people he had ever spoken to that were not paid to be with him (he's in a very small 'secure' unit), how is he supposed to cope with becoming adult? He is, by the way, very bright, probably a savant.

The local college has accepted me onto a level 3 (≈ A level) Special Educational Needs course but funding issues will take ages to sort out - I am overqualified again! - so my head will continue to ache from banging against the brick wall of blinkered cronyism. 10 months of targeted voluntary work still hasn’t resulted in a job offer but some glimmers of hope are there, typically an addict in recovery takes 18 months or so to find employment, so whilst frustrated I will keep going in the planned direction, I'm a navigator.

Now back to the memories of past Grianstad an Gheimhridh: chucking a $ billionaire off a charter yacht on xmas day for upsetting my crew (I wasn't even reprimanded by the owner or agent!); New Years Eve at Basils Bar (Mustique-lobster) watching Princess X dancing on her table right next to us - wondering aloud with Lu where the security guards kept their guns (silently reprimanded by a 'stare'); Singapore & Hong Kong for my 17th; sleeping rough for my 19th; Church Farm, Boarstall, Esher and USA for huge family dinners; Storm Force conditions deep sea (no tree!); Missions to Seamen in Hamburg docks, extremely simple but the comradeship of the sea; numerous others of note; and this winter solstice, the seventh in a row with no partner at all, no kisses & cuddles, celibacy suits me, I prefer it - no nasty belittling. 

Grianstad an Gheimhridh this year will be with a friend's family for the day, a family that has had more than their fair share of tribulations but still offered hospitality to me, a stranger, co-incidently an archaic Arab tradition - now, apparently, discarded. No Christmas Eve midnight church choral service as, according to friends in a large, well attended C of E congregation, there aren't any here in Bristol - not traditional anyway. 

All 'best wishes' and 'seasons greetings' cards have been sent by Facebook and e-mail (with links to this blog, it's open share) as the only time I use snail mail is to contact those with cyberphobia.

May your gods be with you all.