Sometimes I wonder about people (actually I wonder about people a lot - I'm very nosy).  But sometimes I wonder about specific people and why they bother to stay together.  Some couples don't seem to like each other very much and seem to always focus on the other's faults rather than their good points, delighting in pointing them out to others.  

Yes, we have moved on with the complaints, and it is more likely to be about table manners than domestic violence, but even so, it puts a listener in a rather iniquitous position - do you agree and be seen to condemn someone or disagree on principle and accuse someone of lying.

In this particular case, I took the coward's way out and changed the subject.

I had to open a conversation. “So, how long have you been married?” “Forty years.  Still trying to improve him.” I wonder whether perfection is attainable.

Is this a record?  Forget spotting Creme Eggs before Christmas, I have seen a reference to Christmas 2013 already.  OK, it was quite sensible, being for a building society advertising a saving plan to start putting things aside for Christmas now.  

Given that I am normally someone who does plan, I wonder why Christmas does evoke such feelings of 'not yet' about it.  Is it because it feels more like the turn of a year than New Year does?  Or is it because of the fact we are supposed to have such a good time, we feel don't want to let anyone down by seeming less than ecstatic at the time, regardless of the consequences.  I saw a report that the number of divorces and bankruptcies jump in January - not a Happy New Year...

The December advertisements were still up, slightly weather-beaten, their gaudiness in contrast to the weather and her mood.  The meeting with the bank was this afternoon.

OK, now it's the 5th, we've all got over the whole 'new' thing for the new year.  Three days at work already, then Monday I can laugh at those people for whom it is the first day back.  As usual, the artificial milestone has come and gone, with no discernible changes.  Maybe it is because I'm getting older that each year seems less significant a milestone, but then you get something from next door that reminds you that a passing year can bring some more radical shifts.

“I hate you, hate you.” The reply was inaudible, a low murmur of sound through the wall.  I’m an unwilling listener to a child growing up.