I made myself some of the usual, obligatory promises, that I shall not refer to as 'resolutions'. I will get (back) into shape (because I will never admit that I've ever really been 'pout' of shape for so long that it really matters), I will finish my newest novel (more frilly shirts, perhaps), I will write my first full screenplay, and I will achieve a one-second draw at the shooting range. Also, there are a couple of other 'resolutions' that I can't reveal just yet, but that's because I don't want to jinx them, rather than them being all cool and secretive, like.
What does all of that mean? It means the same stuff as it meant for all of my efforts in the same arenas for all of last year. Well, yay for consistency at least.
In (proper) football news, my beloved Liverpool FC have sold our star Number 10, and superstar Brazilian midfield magician, Philippe Coutinho, to Barcelona for a staggering £145 million. That's about $197 million on this side of the pond. He will then (on top of that fee) be paid around $350,000 per WEEK, plus bonuses etc. etc. on a five-year contract, and has a - wait for it - $545 million release clause in his contract, meaning that, if any other club in world soccer wanted to approach Barcelona to buy Coutinho, they would have to come up with AT LEAST half a billion dollars just to get to the negotiating table. And to think that my parents used to tell me to clear my dinner plate because children were starving in Africa. The world has gone mad.
Look out for another portfolio page, with some of my slightly older, more action sportsy stuff, coming soon.
Happy New Year!