We're all out wassailing shortly, as is right and proper. It's the end of a grubby old year - and one that has ended in a whole bundle of grief, though there's been blessings. But before us lies a new, shiny one. Full of possibilities to try, to succeed, to fail, to light tea lights or meditate on pebbles as you feel inclined.
So as the Beaker Blessing has it:
May your every uphill have a downhill just before it, or just afterwards.
May the rain only fall when you've remembered your coat.
May the bright sun shine in the day time,
and not at night as that will mean some terrible catastrophe has befallen the entire planet.
May your sea levels stay level
and your conservatory not be struck by meterorites or bird droppings.
May your left turns be easy
and your right turns benefit from conveniently timed gaps in the crossing traffic.
And may you be yourself, inasmuch as it is achievable and compliant with the local jurisdiction, or if you are Katie Hopkins, in which case maybe you'd be better pretending to be somebody else.