Happy New Year

Like many of you I like the beginning of a new year. And, of course, I wish the world and its inhabitants an healthy, prosperous 2024 without war, hunger, prejudice and strife. I won’t go into a cliché ridden diatribe about this most important of days. But sometimes I wonder, Dear Reader, why we pick other days to recognise random issues.                     

  “International Daughters’ Day” has its origins in India. So I get it. It has its beginnings in a country which has not always welcomed the girl-child into the world. OK. We are lucky enough to have a daughter. When the special day arrived I wondered whether we should have phoned our daughter, Alison, in London and wished her all of the best for the day. Should we have sent her a gift? Should we have sent her some money so that she could go out with other daughters and have a bit of a night out? We didn’t. Looking back on it, are we party poopers? Do we regard such days with old fogey grumpiness?

Our daughter, Alison, is 38 years old. She has lived in the UK for the past seven years. We are immensely proud of her. Her independence and determination are an inspiration. So, to me, to let her know that on a particular day seems a bit naff. It is attaching our private feelings, which she already knows, to a public forum, just because. I’m not sure that I like ‘just because’ occasions.

But I do understand the importance of public holidays, particularly the recent acquisition of ‘Truth and Reconciliation Day’. Nobody should argue against the fact that we need to be more aware, have a greater understanding of First Nations History. Same with ‘Remembrance Day’ and ‘Holocaust Day’. A knowledge of history is essential, just look at the recent embarrassing gaffe in our national parliament when it honoured an ancient member of the Waffen SS.  But ‘Family Day’? Do people really need to have a special day for family? I have never celebrated ‘Fathers Day’ and have told my adult children that I will be offended if they waste their money on such an Hallmarkian dry heave. I do, however, encourage them both to celebrate ‘Mother’s Day’. So I guess there is a certain amount of picking and choosing in the Davidson principle here, not to mention hypocrisy. Reminded of the quotation:-

“If you don’t like my principles, don’t worry I have others.” Groucho Marx

So I am going to start a campaign to add other special days to the calendar. There are fewer and fewer occasions at my time of life for over indulgence. At 71 years of age if I overdo anything then it seems to take me an age to recover. What used to take a cup of coffee and a banana, now requires a medical appointment and days of sympathy from an unsympathetic family. But, Dear Reader, I do like the occasional dinner of spicy Italian sausages. Nobody else in our house will eat them, let alone cook them so, on such a night, I am on my own. I feel isolated, forlorn, bereft of the conversation which should accompany such moments of luxury. So maybe if there is a day devoted to the sausage, there will be postings and googlings which will pander to my tastes, maybe help me feel less alone, less eccentric.

“International Spicy Sausage Day” eh?

So now that I am on Facebook I will get such comments as “Happy Spicy Sausage Day, Pete” and I will scroll through them and I will feel good about myself and the sausages will have an extra zing to them ‘cos they and I have been recognised. So this has got me thinking, Dear Reader, in itself an achievement, don’t you know. What else should be recognised with a special day?

“International ‘No-pictures-of-people’s-lunch’ Day”

We have all been victims of this if we are on some form of social media. Open it up and there is a picture of Natasha Phagiash’s Chicken Korma on Rice. I always make cooing noises when these turn up, rather like I do when there’s a picture of baby sat on Santa’s lap on her first Christmas. Then my family is interested and I show them the picture. One of them will shake their head. “Don’t be so silly, Pete, that’s spaghetti Bolognese! Can you not see that wee noodle peeking out from beneath that piece of beef?” And there follows hours of endless fun as we discuss the contents of Natasha’s lunch. Sometimes the debate becomes an argument and one of us storms out of the room in high dudgeon. Of course, Dear Friends, I drip with sarcasm here. But I think most of us would rather see a stunning photograph of a Patagonian sunset disappearing behind a South American peak than anonymous food making an appearance. And if Natasha has taken the South American picture and, in the same breath, announced that she has just graduated from medical school, then we send off our congratulations and feel genuinely happy for her. There are, Friends, better pictures of her years of hard work than her celebratory food, don’t you think?

“National Upper Tax Bracket Day”

—a day when we recognise all those poor people who have to pay extra tax because they have an income over a certain threshold. We could all congregate at our local tax office with banners and speeches, down-on-their-luck millionaires could make heart rending appeals. We could go home afterwards thanking our lucky stars that we were not one of them and resolving to be more kind to them in the future.

“National Redneck Day”

—- This event should probably have a parade downtown. Large, cholesterol-denying, grunt-talking, beard-bearing, cyclopean points of view, clumping down Georgia Street, hunting meat-selling food trucks. All the while being serenaded by the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra and accompanied by groups of English Morris Dancers, yodelling Austrian ski instructors and a group of Women’s Studies students from the University of Victoria finding multiple targets for their karate training.  This large waddling crowd of monstrous monosyllabics could do manly things like chew tobacco and only use adjectives that begin with ‘f’ and end in ‘g’. They could disavow climate change, swig pints of Covid-preventing Harpic and carry banners portraying wise epithets like “Wipe your arse with the spotted owl.”

“National Pun Day”

—-when all of us who love puns can find wrist-smacking, groan-inducing, lip-curling, truly, truly awful puns and spout them incessantly to complete strangers until murder is committed. Hmm, could also be called ‘Rob Moser Day’! (Sorry, private joke).

“International Handwashing Day”

—- would be a wonderful reminder of how to avoid spreading germs as long as we all remember to wash our hands on every other day of the year. There are quite a number of them still left, methinks! It would be wonderful if nobody became sick on that day ‘cos we had all conscientiously washed away our germs. And then, of course, it would all fall apart on the day after when we went back to our dirty habits. “I don’t know why you caught the lurgee in August. I, (self-righteously,) washed my hands on June 27^th.”

OK, all very silly. But, Dear Reader, can I make an appeal? Recognise your loved ones every day, shake hands with a veteran every day, nod and smile at an Indigenous Person every day, and, for goodness sake, don’t just help an elderly person across the road on “Help a Grannie Across the Road Day.” Surely as a civilised society we are aware every day what makes the world tick properly and improperly and if we don’t, then the information is out there every day. I don’t want a cake for my birthday but I do want one tomorrow which is nowhere near my birthday.

As a cub scout in the UK we used to have an event called ‘Bob a Job Week’.We were supposed to go out in our uniforms into the community and cut somebody’s grass or bring somebody’s washing in off the line. For which tasks we would be given the princely sum of a shilling, a ‘bob’. That was an ideal training for how we should be acting every day as good citizens. I don’t think that I need now to be reminded that if a stranger spills his groceries in the car park I should offer to help pick them up even though it is not ‘Bob a Job’ week.

To me it is a bit sad that we have to be reminded to do the right thing. I am not that naïve in that I don’t know that there are many differing ‘right things’ in circulation. Many of them cause spitting of feathers and throwing the dummy out of the pram which in itself is a problem with our society. The fact that we cannot have an heated, controversial debate devoid of hatred and falling outs is a concern to me. Perhaps we should have another day added to our calendar. How about:-

“ International Acceptance of Different Points of View Day”

A day where we listen to anathemas, hear out nonsensical simplicity and tolerate the intolerable, listen to the wisdom of the Taliban and the loony logic of Donald Trump and then self-medicate with a tub of ice cream and a glass of red wine.

“National Toe Fungus Day”

This could be a glorious photo op where we can all post photos of toes that have fungus, a plethora of photos on various applications. Hmmm, these pictures would not be nice to see. But, Dear Reader, I would rather see pictures of these than yet another picture of somebody’s food!! We need to realise that food is recognisable but toe fungus isn’t and thus it is great to be reminded that our toenails, embedded like wartime journalists, do merit a proper wee keek on occasions.

“National Anti-Perfume Day”

I dislike entering our local Shoppers Drug Mart to go to the Post Office because I have to walk through the perfume section which reeks of something unnatural which is supposed to be attractive. Just once, Dear Reader, I would like to enter those portals and be greeted with the comforting odour of sweaty sports gear or the farmyard, something real and earthy, a lovely odorous hockey bag for example.

“National Hallmark Day”

This could be the day when we tell everybody we meet that we love them, tell sad stories with romantic endings, watch Christmas schmaltz on the TV, pretend that the world is an happy place with no war, disease, starvation, racism or misogyny. This, so help me, could be a day when we are asked to engage in the awkward act of hugging! At which point Davidson kneels down and pretends to do up his shoelace.

“National Vomit Inducing Day”— Sorry this is the alternative title for the previous paragraph.

“New Years Day”—-

 And we are back where we began. At last a day that is worthy of note.  And, as ever, the best thoughts, the best words for me on this day will always come from Robbie Burns.

‘And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!

And gie’s a hand o’thine

And we’ll tak a right guid-willie-waught,

For auld lang syne.’    Robbie Burns

And of course, January 25^th is “Burns Nicht’ when the poet’s birthday is acknowledged in celebration around the world. That will always figure hugely on the Davidson calendar.

 Here’s wishing you all a very Happy New Year and all health and happiness in 2024.

Thanks for reading.

P.S. An highlight of 2023 for me was seeing “Pas Meche (Nothing Doing)” by Jules Bastien-Lepage at a gallery in Edinburgh. This is the picture that adorns the title of this blog. There is something very appealing about this impish wee tyke. I couldn’t resist  the fridge magnet.