The New Year and the old one. 2016, what was that all about?

The New Year and the old one. 2016, what was that all about.

So here we are poised on the threshold of another year. We're speeding towards 2017 and wondering why the things that did happen in 2016 actually did take place. Yes you can rub your eyes with bemusement and disbelief. 2016 defied description and challenged our perceptions. How and why may never be known but 2016 was one long sequence of  spectacular absurdities. You couldn't have made any of it up. And they did happen and maybe it's time to move on.

 With the benefit of hindsight 2016 almost seems like some weird and wonderful dream, a Hollywood fantasy or some outrageous figment of our imagination. It hardly seemed possible and credible but that's how it all panned out.  Maybe we'll all wake up on the first day of 2017 and find that, much to our surprise it did happen. Some events and incidents in life are somehow destined to happen while others just land on our front door like some unwelcome impostor.

Now here we are on the penultimate day of the year and outside all is once again a thick fog and mist hovering over the suburbs of London and Britain. At one point it seemed to settle on the ground itself rather like the most comfortable of blankets. There is something quite haunting and mystical about the fog. For years our American friends were convinced that London was permanently foggy regardless of the time of the year. Here in Britain we normally get fog and mists when least expected although this is far from being a pea souper.

Over 60 years ago London suffered the most horrendous of all weather conditions. Something known as a smog came swirling in from no fixed location, a choking, coughing, spluttering phenomena that wrapped itself mercilessly around the West End, the City and the suburbs. The smog was the direct result of noxious fumes from chimneys and the increasing intrusion of a thick white fog.

Thankfully there hasn't been any snow although to a world of children, snow is pretty, beautiful, playful and enormous fun. You can skip, jump, slide, somersault and generally lark about in the white stuff. Still it's time to sit down reflectively and ponder the year of 2016 in all its splendid incredulity, its magnificent unpredictability and its superlative drama. Nobody could have possibly written that script because none would have believed you.

Anyway. it's time to turn back the clock and try to make sense of it all. Of course 2016 had its familiar patterns, rhythms, colours, shapes and conventions. When all is said and done though it may not be any more unusual than any other year in recent history. But it was crazy, slightly potty and almost endlessly  controversial. It had the traditional excitements, the everyday dramas and those shocking traumas that might have caught us on the hop when least expected.

We knew there was something in the air when the EU referendum announcement hit us between the eyes. From that point onwards every news bulletin, newspaper, TV broadcast and media outlet was charged and ready to explode on our consciousness like a lethal grenade. You could almost smell the cordite in the air. Battle lines were formed and politicians of every colour suddenly broke into the most heated of all bust ups. It was the kind of confrontation that almost broke the whole of Britain and left most of us speechless and dumbfounded.

Now the dust has settled perhaps we can get back to the everybody business of living and rationalising the whole event. Britain will be leaving Europe and will somebody remember to turn out the lights and lock up afterwards? Britain wants to escape from the bureaucratic clutches of its European neighbours and carve out a quite astonishing independence from Europe. It wants to be widely respected and feel even better about itself than it already does.

No longer does Britain want to be held to account by those wretched and faceless law makers in Brussels. Britain wants to feel a greater sense of  belonging to its global allies, the countries with big plans, admirable ambitions and forward thinking projects. Britain wants to feel part of the bigger picture rather than that little squiggle in the corner of Europe. Britain wants to trade with her international partners in the hope that one day we too can command the respect of the whole globe.

It is of course all about world domination or perhaps that's just some silly notion. Seriously Britain wants to be that powerful and recognisable country that always does prosperous business with no interference from its European neighbours. Just let us get on with it and forge lasting friendships with China, Japan, Australia, Africa, the Far East, the Middle East and every continent as far away from Europe as it's possible to be.

Who, we may ask, needs those efficient German cars, French cheese, Italian spaghetti, Russian vodka and Spanish paellas when there are so many more tempting culinary choices? Who needs Greek ouzo, Swiss chocolates or any of those meals they serve up in European restaurants. Britain has got its own lakes of wine, its very own chocolates and doesn't need any help or guidance from Europe. Good night Europe. It was nice knowing you but frankly those global frontiers have to be opened up as soon as possible.

But it was the immediate aftermath of the EU referendum that left most of us either scratching our heads or just glad that the whole thing was over once and all. On the day after Britain's withdrawal, there were furious arguments, fiercely accusing fingers and much questioning. In reality there was nothing to get all hot under the collar about. Once the decision had been made it was easy to believe that none of us would have any reason to worry about anything. And yet there seemed to be an uneasy tension that spread across the country, more disagreeements and more bloody recriminations.

Wasn't Britain happy with that final judgment and a line would be emphatically drawn in the sand? And yet there were indignant demonstrations from the people who wanted us to stay in the heart of Europe and not just walk away like sulking children. There seemed genuine blood or maybe not. But there was more anger, more angst, more teeth clenching, more soul baring, more nonsensical comments from those in the know. There were attacks and counter attacks, corners and free kicks, what a palaver.  Sorry that's football not politics although the two do cross over quite compatibly at times.

Still we've all had quite enough of the Brexit theatrical production and is that Nigel Farage slinking his way back to his pantomime dressing room with a broad grin on his face. On the subject of politics 2016 signalled the end of David Cameron's reign as British Prime Minister. You had to feel desperately sorry for a decent and principled man who always felt he had Britain's best interests at heart. Cameron was adamant that Britain had to be a European city in every sense of the word. And yet he had to fall on his sword because the rest of the nation turned their backs on him. It seemed like the most unjust of all betrayals and for a few brief moments even he must have felt lost and deserted.

Anyway in that other hotly divisive political hot potato, America also went to the polls and here was the point where any sense of reality ran away from the White House. The appointment of Donald Trump as the next President of the United States still leaves us perplexed and, if truth be told, terribly worried for the future of the free world.

How did a man with no political experience at all suddenly find himself launched into one of the most high profile and important jobs in the world. Here was a ruthless, corrupt, multi millionaire businessman preaching and pontificating on Syria, Iraq and all manner of foreign policies. Here was a a man faced with one of the most unenviable jobs of all time. What does Trump know about a country's economy, its housing and education problems, its hospitals, its disaffected youngsters, its dreadful poverty? And yet here's a man who will have to learn on the job, who will have to acquire the relevant political skills fairly sharpish because now is the time for Trump to roll up his sleeves and get cracking with due haste.

We shall watch this ruthless and perhaps too opinionated man. We shall watch him slowly shaping and moulding his policies with considerable assistance from his back room team because you sense they will be essential cogs in the new American administration and vital influences to boot.  It may be that Trump will have to quickly bury those rather unfortunate and tactless remarks on women, Muslims and walls in Mexico. Time I think for Don to don the clothes of sensible politics not some wildly silly and impassioned rant about something and nothing. Time for Donald to get real.

And so it is that we move into those last couple of days of the year and mourn the loss of those who we once idolised. The passing of David Bowie at the beginning of the year still seems like a vicious rumour.  Regrettably Bowie could have been, and perhaps was. one of the archetypal heroes in one of his songs. Of course Bowie lived out the definitive life of sex, drugs and rock and roll but when the curtain drops on 2016 most of us will bow our heads deeply and respectfully hoping that the rock legends of our generation will continue to keep us richly entertained.

In the last couple days of this festive period more giants have fallen. There was Carrie Fisher, an actress of some standing, repute and renown. Fisher will forever be remembered and perhaps immortalised for services to Star Wars and then celebrated for being the daughter of Debbie Reynolds whose own death the day after her daughter now sends a sinister shiver down the spine.

And then there was the tragic and heartbreaking passing of the incomparable George Michael, a singer of enormous gifts and a gloriously resonant voice. The harsh truth of course was that the self destructive path that led to his downfall is now just a painfully cautionary tale rather than a terrible accident. When the post mortems are fully conducted and those affectionate tributes have been made, we may think we've lost much more than a true legend. Time to draw a veil over 2016 and dig out the crystal ball. Any New Year's resolutions? Me? Well this is my own lifelong mantra. To quote the great Liverpool manager Bill Shankly's mother. If you've got your health everyday is a holiday. My mantra is that my health is my wealth. A happy and healthy New Year folks.