IT STARTED WITH A CUDDLE AND ENDED IN A FRENZY OF TEETH AND CLAWS

2024 in retrospect

One of my favourite things about being British is the thing that inevitably happens after something has gone disastrously wrong. For example, you playfully push your date into traffic, or a fire breaks out in your tantric sexual healing workshop and singes everyone’s chakras. After the initial panic and shock has worn off, and everyone’s settled with a nice cup of tea, someone will pipe up to say, “That went well.” And that’s always my favourite moment of any disaster.

So, 2024. That went well, didn’t it?

I mean, really. 2024 has been like a tantric sexual healing workshop which some drunk golfers mistook for a suburban barbecue and pretty much everyone ended up with burnt sausages and overly toasted baps. What can you say, really, except that if you’re reading this, it could have been a lot worse. At least you didn’t find a pube in your veggie burger.

For me personally, this year has involved a quantity of mice and ghosts, and more rail replacement buses than I would have chosen. Okay, there was only one rail replacement bus, but that was more than I wanted to happen. If we’re talking about low points, 2024 was also a year in which I found out that a lot of people really don’t understand the concept of toast. Zero-point-fiving a piece of raw bread does not make it toast. It’s basically just holding it at a distance and insulting it a bit.

Speaking of being held at a distance and insulted a bit… well, that more or less sums up a few of my unhappier relationships in 2024. But on the whole, if I’m a piece of toast, I’ve mainly been foured and fived this year, and I’m all the better for it.

To be completely honest, 2024 has been the absolute best year of my life so far. I’m the wittiest and most good looking I’ve ever been, for a start. My writing is approaching genius levels of insight and hilarity. Also I’m now sponsored by this new smart drug called D-Luzion which is really helping to clear up my dandruff.

The best thing is that I just really stopped giving much of a fuck about anything. I’m old now. I’m done with that nonsense. Other people are welcome to their opinions, their expectations, their outrage. Whatever. As far as I’m concerned, I’m a free person living in a free country(?) and fuck you if you try to take that freedom away from me by any means.

With that said, let’s move on to the end of year statistics.

Dogs looked after: 18. Two of them were cats, though.

Haunted houses stayed in: 3. Well, 2. The third one wasn’t haunted, but the kitchen said hello to me one time.

Things broken in other people’s houses: 1 mug. 1 sliding patio door. 1 plate. 1 saucepan, severely dented (but this was actually a ghost’s doing and I accept no real blame.) 1 heart.

Ghosts: Yes. Mostly in the form of mice, some door slamming, some whispering and a couple of instances of laughing children. Also the Poultrygeist laid an egg in my sister’s living room, but I wasn’t there for that, so I’m not sure it counts.

Boyfriends: 0.5

Tantric Sexual Healing workshops: 0

Fucks given: a few, but let’s call it zero for the haters.

Gratitude: infinite. I’m especially grateful to all of you who subscribe to The Distractionist, who read my posts, share them, leave comments, send messages and even give me money. You make me happy. I’m grateful that I’ve found a lovely community of writers on substack and that they’re always posting things that make my life better. I’m grateful that my family and friends are solid, trustworthy, good people. I’m grateful that I get to spend so much time with dogs and trees.

I’m just a lucky bastard, really.

So here’s to the end of 2024, and a new beginning in 2025. I hope you have a wonderful year ahead. Happy New Year!

Mainly trees and dogs.

What about you? What have been your highlights and low points this year? Have you also been plagued by ghost mice? Did you get your chakras scalded at the tantric sex barbecue? Tell me everything.