Myths of the past will continue to haunt us in the future

I lunched last Sunday with a gargantuan guzzler and bon viveur who announced his plans to take a sleeping pill tonight and retire early. New Year’s Eve is funny.

It vies with Saint Patrick’s Day for raucousness and public disorder. It divides the world into those who retreat, and those who go out. Living in earshot of Dublin’s Christ Church Cathedral, its pealing bells will herald the New Year.

I have nodded off and missed the whole thing once or twice, but opening doors, letting out the old, and in with the new, is tradition. New beginnings then, but no New Year’s resolutions for me.