The joyously daft New Year ritual that’ll make me feel so close to the wife I’ve lost
Every New year’s eve since 1966, my wife, Margaret, and I made ‘Our Predictions’. We would sit up late, sometimes as late as 9.55pm!
I would get out a blank sheet of paper, put the date at the top, which, of course, was always December 31, and the address, which 90 per cent of the time was this house, the one we had lived in since 1963.
I would write down a list of things which Margaret and I were predicting would happen in the year ahead. Nothing bad, sad or tragic — that was not allowed. Just nice things.
If a child in the family was sitting exams, we had to guess their results. If someone was pregnant, we each had to guess the day the baby would be born, its sex and its name.
Which was daft. How could we guess what an unborn child would be called? But it amused me and surprisingly often, Margaret got the name right.
We also did it for the royal Family, if one of them was up the duff. Always easier guessing royal Family names.
If there were big political events coming up in the year ahead, like a General election, or even more vital matters, such as a football World Cup, we had to predict the winners. And by how much.
I am not sure why it was me who always did the writing down. My handwriting is rubbish, whereas Margaret’s was brilliant.
I suppose it was because I was the one who looked forward most to this game every New year’s eve.
Margaret always tired of it before me,
We’d guess baby names and who’d win the World Cup
asking if there were any more predictions to make, saying she was falling asleep and wanted to get to bed.
In 1970, we added ‘Highlights’ to the list of Predictions — which meant listing the highlights of the year just gone.
These could have been a grand summer, lots of swimming in the Lake District, the birth of another grandchild or good reviews for a new book. As with Predictions, we stuck to nice things.
In 1980, we added ‘Current Concerns’. This covered the things on that New year’s eve which we were worried about — the annoying things buzzing around in our heads which we felt we had to deal with.
These were usually domestic matters: a roof letting water in, a door falling off, the house needing decorating.
There would also be personal issues, such as Margaret worrying about her teeth, which she seemed to do for years, or concerns about our pet tortoise.
each New year’s eve we could not believe the tortoise really would re-appear in the spring after hibernation, as we had no idea where she had put herself to sleep in the garden. We feared the rats or foxes would get her this time.
each New year’s eve, we would begin the traditional ceremony with a reading out by me of the previous year’s Predictions, Current Concerns and Highlights.
We’d laugh at the silly things we had been worried about a year ago. Or we’d scoff, for example, at the other person who thought Labour’s Denis Healey would become the next Prime Minister or that Kate Middleton would have triplets.
Some other predictions were also off the mark.
I predicted that Team GB would do rubbish in this year’s rio Olympics — having done so well four years previously in London. I thought Hillary Clinton would become U.S. president. In 1967, I predicted we would get a dog — but we never did, just a tortoise.
In 1977, I predicted that Prince Charles would be engaged to a photographer we had never heard of, who looked a bit like the novelist Jilly Cooper.
In 1980, I predicted I would buy an island. What a dopey idea.
Some years, though, were better. In 2005, I said that the Lib Dems would hold the balance of power — and form a government (as happened with the coalition, albeit five years later) and Gordon Brown would leave politics and get a job at the World Bank (almost the case).
Back in 1974, I said Carlisle United would get in the then First Division — which happened. (Though if you blinked, you missed it.) Two years later, Margaret predicted Margaret Thatcher would be Prime Minister — I predicted no, thinking she would leave politics.
I have kept all these sheets intact, every year, back to 1966. As the bundle grew, I would often throw in an extra question, such as where were we when we did the Predictions on December 31, 1983?
Margaret would pause for a few seconds, thinking back over the decades, and would always get it right.
She was excellent on dates, ages, birthdays, addresses, phone numbers — all the things I can never remember. She knew the birthday of even remote relations, plus all the royal Family. I find it hard to remember my own.
The answer for where we were on New year’s eve 1983 was that we were all at the Boglerhof Hotel in Alpbach in Switzerland.
For three years running, when our three children were young, we went skiing there — at least me and the children did.
Margaret never skied. She walked, and was totally content to walk, all on her own, meeting us later for hot gluhwein.
I don’t know yet what our Predictions were this time last year, predicting what 2016 would bring. For our rule was that you can never check or change or look, not till the next New year’s eve. But I am sure I never guessed Brexit would happen or Theresa May would be Prime Minister or Donald Trump would triumph.
And I’m sure I predicted that my team, Spurs, would win the Premier League last season. I do that every year, the theory being that one year they will — and I will have got it right!
Since we never predicted any Bad Things, I know for certain that on December 31, 2015, I would not have predicted that in 2016 my wife would die.
Margaret died on February 8. Not totally unexpected. She had a double mastectomy 40 years ago. This time last year, the cancer had returned. The consultant had given her three months — which proved to be correct.
So I will be sitting down tonight on my own, filling in the Lists which now go back 50 years.
It will be hard when I come to the Highlights of 2016. But to keep up the tradition, and being an ever cheerful chappie, I will find something to celebrate.
Our two older granddaughters have now each got through maths at GCSE, if only just. Phew, that was a relief.
Getting rid of the old decking in the back yard — that was a plus, which Margaret lived to see
Nothing bad or sad was allowed — just nice things
happen. It had become a deathtrap, planks rotting, rats breeding underneath. What a mistake decking was. I blame those Tv gardening experts, assuring us that decking was the new wonder.
We had it all ripped up and the yard relaid with yorkstone.
All it cost was money. Have you see the price of yorkstone slabs? It would have been cheaper to lay out £50 notes.
But the pleasure it gave Margaret, and me, watching the slabs change colour and shade with the sun or the rain.
Oh, simple pleasures. you can’t beat them. So I will be doing the Predictions, Highlights and Current Concerns alone, at the usual time this evening.
I like to think it is not just part of my own family story, but also part of social history.
each year, in some way, our lives reflected what was going on, or about to go on, in the big wide world outside our front door.
I plan to continue filling them in, every New year’s eve, for as long as I have the breath to cool my porridge. I see it as a way of communing with Margaret, remembering each of those 50 years together.
I will have the Christmas tree decorations still up, the log fire burning, candles lit and I will be playing Christmas carols
it could be the ultimate test of New Year willpower – and save you money on the groceries.
A liquid diet of four pints of milk a day – and nothing else – for the whole of January has been suggested as an effective way to lose those extra festive pounds.
the decades-old diet appears to have come back into fashion for 2017.
it certainly ticks the boxes for New Year’s resolutions – promising weight loss and a food bill of just £1 a day.
Advocates say it works because milk provides almost every nutrient the body needs, while cutting calories to just 1,000 a day.
And despite criticism, its champions say the main selling point is that it contains only one item – so people find it easier to control and stick to.
independent dietitian Dr Carrie ruxton said: ‘Drinking four pints of milk a day is almost like retraining your stomach.
‘it can be really hard to cut back on portion size, but if you can be really strict with four pints, your body becomes accustomed to that small volume.’ Milk is high in protein, which scientists have found boosts hungerfighting hormone PYY.
Dr ruxton has advised the semiskimmed diet for a month for overweight — in honour of Margaret. This was her own, rather surprising tradition. She had no interest or love for music. She did not know one tune from another, apart from God Save The Queen.
When she went on Desert Island Discs, several years ago, I explained that she would have to choose eight records to play on a desert island.
‘Why would I want any?’ she replied. ‘On a desert island, I would want total silence.’
Sorry, pet, I’d say — that is the game, that is the format. You have to pick eight records to go with you. OK, then let me help you. Which is how she came to pick several Beatles discs.
Yet once a year, she did listen to music. Every Christmas, she would sit in the darkened living room, with only the Christmas tree for light, and listen to a very old, bashed-up audio tape of the choir of King’s or obese people looking to lose a stone or more, who can expect to shed up to three pounds a week.
the nutritionist added: ‘i would say not to try it alone, and to work with a dietitian, but there is nothing dangerous about it.’
however Catherine Collins, a spokesman for the British Dietetic Association and Nhs dietitian for more than 30 years, said milk lacks important nutrients like vitamin D and iron, which could put people at risk of anaemia if they remained on the diet for a long time.
she said: ‘the volume, four pints a day, is a very large volume of milk and tolerance will be low. After about two days i think people will decide, “no way, i’m not going to do this”.
‘i would not advise people to do it, but if they want to try a liquid diet, i’d recommend commercial meal replacements which are fortified with micronutrients and are available in different flavours to avoid taste fatigue and boredom.’
rick Miller, a clinical and sports dietitian, said: ‘A multi-vitamin and mineral supplement taken alongside it would be a more sensible approach.’ College, Cambridge, singing carols. If I or anyone else came into the room, she would switch the carols off, and deny that she had been listening to them. It was a private, personal pleasure.
So, tonight, after I have done the Predictions, the Highlights and the Current Concerns, I will play those carols. It will be another way of communing with Margaret.
Then, at five to ten, I will pack the lists away safely until next year, switch off the lights, and rush upstairs to bed.
I will be under the blankets by ten o’clock, with Radio Four on, ready for the first five minutes of the world news headlines.
Which is what we always did, all our married life . . .
HUNTER DAVIES’S next volume of his memoirs, A Life In The Day, which will cover the death of his wife Margaret, will be published by Simon and Schuster in July.