As I'm sure you worked out, I am about to list my five favourite things that happened to me in the year that historians will remember as being 2013. It's a deeply personal list, and that's not even a joke. There are things on there that will mean nothing to most people, but if I said "Chelsea won the Champions League!" was a personal highlight in order to appeal to the populist opinion, then I would be lying. Besides, Chelsea didn't win the Champions League this year, so I'd be lying twice. That would be very wrong. It may just be the thing that shifts the balance in favour of an eternity yet to come being spent in the damnation that is hell. At least I'd get to spend it with Rolf Harris. Here's a list.
I want this list to be specific. No grand sweeping statements like "I got better at fishing" (Which, incidentally, I didn't). So I do have a moment to come fifth on this list in mind, but, frankly, it's boring. I sat in a chair and some other people sat in other chairs and some words were said in the assorted voices we were all blessed with at some point around puberty. So instead, let's reflect on how we got to that moment. I started my first year at university in September. The actual first day was a bit rubbish, but I'm going to stick to my rule. On my first day, I stood in my room with my hands on my hips for an unnecessary amount of time and then forgot my ID when me and my new flatmates actually left the flat as a unit for the first time, meaning I had to find my way back to a place I didn't know in the dark and biting cold all alone. I was in bed by 11. It got better from there.
Look to the left. That's A Level results day all over. The news shows a load of pretty girls doing awfully well and then one shot of a posh lad who's going to Cambridge. This year, I grabbed all of the news-worthy stereotypes, threw them in a sack and screamed "A* IN POLITICS!" at them until they cried (The boy broke very quickly). Made all the more noteworthy because I really enjoyed working stupidly hard for them. I spent most of Christmas Day revising last year. My birthday, the same. Because I grew to love it. So to see it all become worthwhile and to hopefully do everyone who had helped and supported me proud was an oh-so-satisfying moment.
I don't quite believe it happened. One incredible scoreline, a perfect pay-off for years of dedication. Bearing in mind I live in England, so in a standard year this fixture is the be-all and end-all of the season, the moment at which my Welsh roots are vindicated or denied, and -Just to add further metaphorical spice- this was a title decider. The anticipation and jangling nerves were at a record high. It all came through in the anthems. The passion, the emotion, the heart and soul. Even more then came through in the second half, as Wales produced possibly the finest display in the game's illustrious history left of the Severn Bridge. All, of course, inspired by the Great God of Rugby Union, man-of-the-match Justin Tipuric, seen to the left skinning the public-schooled mortals in front of him before providing the scoring pass to a genetically-modified super-horse.
Honest to god. You should have seen me (And my grin, for it had by this point become an entity entirely of its own) as I left the cinema. Whereas most 18 year olds' lists of the happiest they've been over a period of 12 months would focus on the times in which they drank the most copious amounts of alcohol, the most joyous I felt was after watching Greta Gerwig bounce through the streets of New York to Modern Love by David Bowie. Watching Frances Ha for the first time honestly ranks amongst the most upbeat, jubilant and happy moments of my (And my sentient grin's) life. Maybe it's because I have no friends and can only find happiness through magical celluloid repasts, but I think it's because Frances Ha is the BEST FILM EVER and would have that affect on anyone. Watch it.
1. I won a thing by doing some talking.
I poured heart and soul into a silly little debating competition this year. Hundreds of hours and all of my willpower went into trying to get myself and three others ready to take on the world (Or at least a handful of public schools). We had, when the year begun, scraped through by the skin of our teeth to the Regional round, where we would take on heavy-hitters with huge budgets and posh daddies. As is the nature in these competitions, everyone is very respectful and a victory is treated with a quiet "Well done, old chap" and polite applause from the competition. When the name of the team progressing to the London-based final called was ours, I screamed "YES!", punched the air, hit my head against a wooden panel and almost knocked myself out. It was all worth it. Maybe it's silly and throwaway and worthless to everyone else; an unsatisfying ending to this list. I mean, we didn't even win the aforementioned final. But to me, this meant the world. It had been my life for nearing a year, and the effort and dedication had been not just vindicated, but rewarded. You can never ignore or trivialise somebody's passion, no matter how daft, for to do that is to reduce a life to a meaningless scrap, free of joy or wonder. Winning the Regional Finals provided me with a joy and wonder that I shall never forget.
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