"My name is Stuart Beaton. I had an inspiration, and I woke up in Tianjin.
It was a sheer drop to the bottom.
Most of my previous New Year Eves were spent working at the copy desk back home in Calcutta, India, till a colleague came by and informed me that another year had ended.
Unhappy New Year to you. And me. How many hours of how many New Year nights have you spent staring at a metropolitan horizon, looking for the light? Of a taxi, not anything unimportant like the Answer to Life. I loathe one thing about the whole business of "out with the old and in with the new". Partying on the eve of the annual transition is tainted by the impossibility of a good exit.
Snow is falling softly and a beautiful winter wonderland is being created all around me.
When I played American football, back in the reckless days of my youth, friends and family who filled up my English life at the time had two things to say about it.
The question of love has been contemplated for thousands of years. What is love, how does it show, what is it based on and why do we love?
Until the M-20 summit is convened, here is my module in modern mingling manners.
My house, and unwitting neighbors, recently hosted a children's Christmas party to which Father Christmas rode up on a tricycle.
So it's Christmas. How do you send wrapped gifts to your loved ones from China, considering China Post has to look at what you are sending.
During the latter years of my stay in the United States, I was a keen listener to National Public Radio (NPR).
Excitedly, we get on our two rented, pink and blue tandems. Parents in the front, our boys at the back and behind them a little basket in which we stow a water bottle, a picnic and my handbag. Well strapped in and thief proof, of course.