Naming nightmare: the main problem facing us for 2010

“It’s a new DAWN, it’s a new DAY, it’s a new LIFE…” So reads my sister’s Facebook status at 11.57am on New Year’s Day. Cringe. But her friends seem to concur: “Foooor meeeeeee” pipes up Ben “And I’m feeeelllinngg gooood… just about anyways.” Very nice.

Not sure yet how the switch to double digits will shake their world but it is at least an exciting gesture. New leaves et al. What I’m wondering is what do we call this decade? The recent rush of media publications reflecting on our “noughty but nice” years have been strokes of genius in my book. First port of call, Yahoo Answers. This tells me in no uncertain terms that, well, we just don’t know yet. Forget the simplicity of the eighties, the nineties. Suggestions include “the tenses”, “the nice-ies”, “the oneder years”. I’m particularly partial to “the teenies”, as though this century is growing up alongside my ten year old cousins (Millenium babies make life dead easy when it comes to remembering ages.)

New Year’s Resolutions at this stage, one out of nine university terms down in my York career, seem slightly futile. The 10 weeks before this Christmas break were full to pop with “New”. Just getting together in my small – way down south; think taxis, buses, trains, tubes, car journeys away – town with our small group of close friends I come to realise how BIG the experience of us all trekking in different directions has been. When you consider that in the American Rocky Mountains, students local university can be 6 hours of high speed highway driving away, our Great British Isles have a good deal to offer. So Mum also recognised come post-offer open day as we drove on by signs for Bournemouth, Southampton, Oxford, Warwick, Nottingham, Leeds, Sheffield. A long distance trek some might say but an epic and worthy one I feel.

Perhaps I should endeavour to commence my reading list? Academic discipline and such noble ideas. Swanage’s Oxfam bookshop has a small “Classics” shelf tucked away in the corner. I have a term of Victorian Literature ahead of me. As if lying in wait, the selection available enabled me to tick off 4 of my titles. The novels now reside, no, threateningly loom by my bedside lamp looking actually quite intimidating and chunky. Yes, that is my 2010 resolution, to crack on with my collection. Ouch. Think I prefer the idea of joining Octopush society.

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