Revellers, party on without me

When I was growing up in the 80s, 2014 was a time and place that seemed impossible to imagine - so far in the future one could argue it was more in the realm of science fiction than future fact. I pictured a lunar-like landscape where people communicated telepathically and wheels had been replaced by personalised jet propulsion as the chief form of transport.

I suppose, realistically, the arrival of "the future" in a few shorts weeks isn't perhaps as far from the wild imaginings of youth as you might think. Thirty years ago, no one would have believed we'd be communicating over Wi-Fi with smart devices that stage-manage everything in our lives from the time we wake up to the calories we consume (depending which apps you have downloaded).

And recent talk of delivery drones soon to be morphing from the pages of fiction to fact makes me feel that perhaps 2014 won't turn out to be so different from what I imagined as an 8-year-old.

But the honest truth is that, no matter how long we've been living in the 21st century (well, I guess in fact it's a little shy of 14 years now), I just can't get to grips with a weird feeling that 2000 and anything is just too far in the future.

When did the world start spinning faster and the years click past at warp-speed?

It's a boring fact of life that all adults like to share with children ... the older you get, the faster the years seem to slip by.

Which is odd, because age brings with it a repetitive boredom, devoid of the exciting milestones and constant flux that define the lives of children; learning to walk and talk, the first day of school, first decade, first kiss and onwards towards the slow decline that will see them graduate, get a job, marry and maybe have a family in their 20s and 30s, before every other year basically becomes just like the one before it, except perhaps if you count the milestones of failing health and gradual decline towards the grave.

Wow. Is anyone else feeling a little depressed right now?

I'm not sure exactly how old I was when instead of being excited by the approach of a new year, I became bored by it. And in recent years I've noticed a growing dread.

Frankly, I'm at a point where I really can't see much reason to drink and stay up till midnight to "celebrate" the passing of yet another year.

This New Year's Eve, if I get my way, I plan to be bobbing about on the water, anchored off a small, remote lakeside beach, away from parties, booze and the often artificially cheerful countdown and hurrahs.

The old year will fade into the new with contemplative solemnity tinged with a whiff of sadness and juxtaposing optimism at what may lie ahead.

When I wake on the first day of 2014, all that will differentiate it from waking up the day before will be the hangover. Once that's gone, it is life as usual. Until the next New Year.

Perhaps all this smacks of a cynicism ahead of my time - I am not, after all, quite yet at that stage when exciting milestones and challenges have completely passed me by.

Maybe it's just that a long and typically exhausting year is almost at a close and I'm worn out and in need of a holiday.

Which is why I sign off for 2013, thanks for reading. I wish you a merry Christmas and a drunken, slightly boring but essentially happy New Year to boot.