Nicholas Quirke was was avoiding reviewing his year on new years eve 2018 which had started with Fireworks in Melbourne and was ending on his own in his flat in Brighton, counting the cost of Christmas; financially, physically and metaphorically. It was something of a whimper with which his year had finally finished; losing his precious sunglasses, experiencing another puncture, a parking fine, losing his lodger and losing his cool with his offspring. And though he was extremely grateful for the company he had enjoyed, from his family on Christmas, to the occasional company of friends and the parties of Peta Taylor in Newhaven and Helen Nevitt’s 60th, he was surprised, but not disconcerted, that his festive season had been so quiet. He was used to his own company, but of course in a fixed spot, he reflected, there wasn’t the same desire to get out and explore or challenge himself. Was his worst outcome starting to happen? Was he becoming complacent again. Though he hated to make New Year Resolutions, hated setting himself up for disappointment, hated the optimism that would fade, he did realise that he needed a plan. 2019 was going to require something audacious from him and a new look, new lodger new friends was not going to cut it. Nicholas was not in rush to make decisions but decisions would be made and his one resolution for 2019 was that it would be be a very different outlook to the one he was enjoying right now by the end of the year