It's A Wonder, Wonder Woman

 Happy New Year, reader, and may 2021 not suck donkeys' balls to the extent 2020 has. As I guessed, the virus did not magically dissipate as the clock struck midnight. The kindest way one can describe this latest New Year's Eve is 'weird'.  I hadn't even planned to see in the New Year, but I found myself watching Netflix and before I knew it, it was almost midnight. My sixteen-year-old (the David Cassidy lookalike) was still up because he had wanted to see in the New Year. We live not far from a pub and could hear some racket and chanting. I walked out the front door, and could hear the raucous countdown from the pub: 'Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four...three...two...one...HAPPY NEW YEAR!' And then the fireworks commenced. Seriously. Some local guys set off fireworks in the beer garden of the pub. So I called my son to come outside, where we watched the display together. There was a light drizzle (which made my hair frizz) and a pong of gunpowder. I said to my son, 'Happy New Year, my darling.' And I felt a little bit sooky.

There's something about this day that makes me a bit mawkish. I always resolve some kind of self-improvement, but whether I adhere to that resolution is something else. And I always take a moment to remember New Year's Day, 1993 when, surrounded by those closest, my mother took her last breath. I lost both my parents in the Christmas/New Year period, and I do feel a bit of a pang, but you are allowed to be happy, too. 

Tonight, the youngest son is at the movies with a friend. I am glad our cinema is still operating; I was worried Covid would see the business fold.  They are watching Wonder Woman 1984. From what I can tell, as the title suggests, the Amazonian princess is kicking butt in the year 1984. This makes me wonder will she be adding killer shoulder pads to her weaponry, which from memory comprised a tiara with boomerang properties, a rope that compelled those it tied to tell the truth, and those awesome feminium bracelets. She could really do a super shoulder-charge if she was decked out in some Eighties shoulder pads. 

I'm not sure if tonight's show will feature any of the characters from the Seventies television series I used to watch. If anybody else remembers it, did you ever sit there thinking Major Steve Trevor must surely have been one of the dumbest carbon lifeforms to ever walk the planet? How could he not see Wonder Woman and Diana Prince were the same person (if not a mortal person)? How many women did he know who (1) stood about six feet tall; (2) were built like a brick shithouse; and (3) were genuinely stunningly beautiful?

Again, Happy New Year.