A day in advance, I know, but team Elitistreview, including Kisu the Elitistreview office cat, would like to wish you a happy new year. May 2016 be the best year ever filled with love, happiness, wonderful food and extremely fine wine.
Team Elitistreview, but not Kisu, will be washing away all the vile memories of a hideous 2015 with Pierre Peters Champagne and, who knows, maybe some Burgundy too. We sincerely hope 2016 is a better year for us, as 2015 held countless traumas for us as our priceless collection of wine being plundered by some bastard thieves (I’m still crying to think of it now) and my right hand, thanks to cubital tunnel syndrome, being in so much pain that even typing this is making me cry even more. Happy New Year, all my dear and greatly appreciated readers!
2015 has been a jet of liquid shit unremittingly pointed in our direction. Our priceless collection of wines we loved so much, the only material possessions on any real value we owned, was pillaged by some bastards and we seemingly will not get any recompense. I went through months of severe psychosis, punctuated only by a few weeks on a drug that depersonalised me and made me feel incredibly anxious and indescribably unhappy. During the time I was psychotic I saw, heard and felt things that no one should have to experience. Unsurprisingly, this made my deep depression initiated by having my wine collection stolen even deeper and it still persists now. Before that I was having fits so often that my body was covered with bruises and scrapes from collapsing and at one point we had to visit the hospital three times in as many days. The exercises I was given to do for my back made my back so painful it was practically impossible to go out if I did them as often as I was supposed to do. I had a suspected mini-stroke. Then, when I finally got antipsychotics sorted out I developed cubital tunnel syndrome which makes my right hand so painful I cannot believe I’ve managed to type this much. The pain is so severe it has prevented me from sleeping and that has aggravated my chronic psychosis, so I’ve been seeing all kinds of terrifying shit again. I had to wait months to get an appointment with a surgeon (who may be able to operate on it and fix it, or he may not) at the start of January. I will go to that appointment bereft of the wine that I loved so much, lost in a miasma of deep depression and only vague hope the surgeon I see will be able to fix the fucking agony in my right arm and hand.
Happy New Year to you, David, and best wishes for a better 2016 (reversion to the mean!). Continue to be so very brave!