my favourite image from 2011 by Mckinley Rodgers Photography

Over the course of the last 365, I have gained a husband, a family and a new name. I stepped off the Carousel of Contracting and took a punt on my first permanent job in 10 years. This has proven to be a mixed bag of pros (pension contributions, funded training, paid leave, relative job security) and cons (less money, less autonomy than expected, the Human Remains Sausage Machine of Woe). I tried some new things: like attending beginner ukelele lessons (I need to practise much much more),  I helped to fundraise $20,000 for Christchurch, and I picked up a gun for the first time in my life and turned out to be Dead-Eye Dick.

I managed to continue the process of nourishing my body. And then in August it showed me exactly who is boss which took months to fully recover from.

We ate A LOT this year: the big table was moved into the living room for many soirees with loved friends. And we got a BBQ. We enjoyed a few travelley-trips, mostly around England: to a Northumberland Ducket, Cheltenham, Porthmeor Beach, Brugges, Rye, and a between-jobs-staycation. One weekend was just a cab ride away.

After a soul-searching Skype with Randi and many more in real life with Ash, the prospect of parenting has slipped further and further down to the very bottom of our to-do list. And while this feels so right for us, there is a small part of me that grieves a little for the little llife that we might have made but that will never be.

I mused on things like assisted dying, and nail polish. I reached 1000 blog posts.

Out in the world its been Crazy Times. It started with the monsoon rains in Bris Vegas, then horrific scenes from Christchurch and Japan. For a week in August there were riots all over England. And the sovereign debt crisis in key Eurozone countries continues to baffle most of us with the squillions of zeros required to bolster economies. I am sure I am not the only one with a sneaky sense that they still don’t really have the answer.  And then the Occupy Movement picked up the gauntlet of our fears and frustrations and the sheer injustice of the economic melt-down. I am full of love and admiration for those who are present in the protest. It gives me hope that the questions being asked will force us all to rethink capitalism and to shift the rules of how we want to live.

I don’t think that the planetary alignment or lack of a Mayan calendar, will result in 2012 being The End of Days, but there does seem to be shifts occurring. Perhaps next year will come the realisation that small really is beautiful?

There is much to be thankful for.

See the badge over there? Down a bit, on the right. It says ‘mixtapes’? Clicking on that, dear reader, will confirm for you my love of and respect for, the audio artistes. And I just felt the need to confirm this before wittering on about the deep comfort and joy that can be derived from spending the evening in a small, windowless room, fuelled with adrenaline, vodka and a microphone.

Last year, during the mega-nightmare project, a colleague, while looking for the loo, discovered in the basement of our favoured northern teppanyaki restaurant: a karaoke room. As a result I can’t listen to Spandau Ballet anymore.

More than a few evenings over the last six months of new job, have resulted in a small band of enthusiasts commandeering the mic at Mary Janes to belt out the best soft-cock-rock the playlist can handle. Word got out. Numbers grew. This has mutated into the ’2011 Projects Team (and friends) Christmas Karaoke Spectacular’ scheduled for a week Monday. This is happening the night before our final Board Meeting of the year. The Monday before the Friday that is the ‘official Christmas party’. Jesus.

In anticipation and celebration of this important event, and after much exhaustive research, here are the 10 songs that really should be on your karaoke playlist:

• Don’t Stop Believin’ ~ Journey - my recommendation is to play this first, so you can play it again. Its a fist-pumping anthem of wholesome Americana and everybody knows the words. Livin’ on a Prayer is also a similarly stonking-great crowd pleaser.
• Jessie’s Girl ~ Rick Springfield – his best song IMHO. Great riffs. Back in ’81 when this went number one I covered my standard four writing book with a picture of Rock Springfield. Heady memories.
• Dreams ~ Fleetwood Mac – Rumours (the album from which this is a single) makes my list of top 10 of all time. Mum used to do the hoovering to Tusk. Stevie Nicks is a fucking legend. Naturally this is a favourite with the ladies. For a similar vibe go with Band of Gold by Freda Payne.
• Somebody to Love ~ Queen – quite possibly the best song for a big group. There are high, low, quiet, and yelly bits. And fabulous drummy bits. And who doesn’t want to be loved?! Brilliant.
• Hold On ~ Wilson Phillips – anyone with ovaries, born in the early 70s will be able to sing this, including the three part harmony, with their eyes closed. Also of note: Torn ~ Natalie Imbruglia (a song that is not actually about episiotomies).
• Use Somebody ~ Kings of Leon – just a bloody great song. At this point you’ve had at least three drinks (this is important from a medical standpoint as you need to keep your vocal chords lubricated), and you’ll probably sound a bit husky: embrace it.
• Mandy ~ Barry Manilow – I know. But you need something a little gentler after KoL. And this has a lovely easy chorus. If you like this try: All Out of Love ~ Air Supply.
• Valerie ~ The Zutons – I feel in love with Amy Winehouse’s version of this. Awesome track. And ginger-positive.
• Sweet Home Alabama ~ Lynryd Skynryd – the most distinctive opening chords of any song known to hoomins, this is a fab group number. Its a little bit country so if thats your bag go with Jolene or 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton.
• Hopelessly Devoted to You ~ Olivia Newton-John - I know what you are thinking. But this is the only song that I know suits my semi-crap singing voice. Even after half a dozen drinks. One time, on a team-building trip to Brighton, this song won me a karaoke competition in the (almost empty) bar on the pier.

So there you have it folks: the definitive über karaoke playlist spectacular. What’s that now? You just want to sing everything really loud? That’s a FABULOUS idea! And here’s a little mixtape especially for you.

For being at this end of four billion years of evolutionary success; for the bittersweet gift of witnessing the sunset of a good, long life; for my lovely purple winter coat and hand-knitted wrist warmers; for the lady-bugs who visit me still even though they should have flown south or hibernated by now (I never noticed them until mum died and now they seem to show themselves when I need her. I learnt today that they are seen as messengers of promise, a reminder to release our fears and return to love); the magic of the Book of Face bringing news of tiny new people – welcome to the planet Lady Evelyn!; my brain for managing to absorb lots of new information in a relatively short period of time while simultaneously managing two crappy work issues all while out of the office; the lovely Spanish barista’s at Brass Mongoose near Blackfriars who have kept us awake with spectacular rich and dark coffee beans direct from Barcelona; the über furriness of Rex & Badger who are fully puffed out with their winter coats and appear to be ‘going bear’. As if they will die of starvation without the extra biscuits; for soup and warm baguettes and pyjamas; for the sheer awesome steeliness of her ovaries, and hers, and hers; for Mr P who is made of awesome; for the heart-stopping bravery of women on the front line.

And I am thankful for you. Yes, you. Every bit of you.

‘At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us’ ~ Albert Schweitzer

In which we put the world to rights, just after the fourth bottle at 2am on Saturday morning; got to potter around Lyme Regis and breath in sea air for the first time in months (chakras: balanced); met someone who worked with John Peel and spent time in the 90s helping out Nicaragua freedom-fighters; picked up a semi-automatic rifle for the first time ever in my pacifist existence and got an (in the words of the Ranger) ‘Olympic level score’; as Top Woman Shooter won me a bottle of champagne; Mr P got top bloke and our joint scores have secured our respective fidelity; wiped the soot of gunpowder off my cheek and stepped into ridiculous shoes for a Huntsman’s (sic) Supper.

Not the worst weekend of my life.