Humour Column: Health not wealth for next year, again.
Folks, as we come to the close of 2018 I feel the same sense of relief I felt this time last year for not converting my handful of savings into Bitcoins.
I'm also grateful to be able to say the end of 2018 has found me still alive, married and working... so far.
Not that I'm taking anything for granted, but with three days to go I'm fairly confident I'll be ringing in 2019; the morning after, because I don't 'do' midnights anymore.
Still, celebrations will be a little sadder this New Year as we said goodbye to several good friends during 2018. Too many in fact.
Long Suffering Wife and I have reached an age where we seem to be attending a lot more funerals than weddings, 21st birthday parties and christenings.
Sadly, this trend looks set to continue. As a result, we've become acutely aware of how short life is and, even though I'm hoping to pass away in my 90's while attempting to duck dive to the bottom of a vat of rum, you just never know when a Mr G. Reaper will pop by and unexpectedly tap you on the shoulder.
Which is why after thirty odd years of fixing other people's stuff in a variety of jobs, sites and places, I decided to accept an offer to become the oldest cadet reporter in Gladstone.
Well, this year has been an education, and who knows what the future holds, but I won't die wondering what it would have been like to have had a crack at my dream job.
In the meantime, I'll keep getting up each day and try to be a tiny bit better than I was yesterday; hopefully.
At this stage I'm not planning on making any big lifestyle changes for the new year, but if history is any guide, it's a fairly safe bet I'll still be on Planet Earth and not dabbling in the world of high finance this time next year either.
Unless those six little numbers finally pop up.
Trust me, if that happens, there will be a massive re-adjustment to our future life plans, living arrangements, career and, quite possibly, my wardrobe.
I might even have enough leftover to buy a Bitcoin.