And so it ends... So long, 2020.

 2020.

The year no-one expected. The year where the only certainty was uncertainty. 

We've been fortunate, Chez Squidge. Of course life has been different. We've had disappointments over scuppered plans, had to attend funerals online, adapted to restrictions on everyday life like everyone else. Our situation could have been much, much worse.

And because of that, at times, we've felt guilty. Sitting at home while others went out to work in keyworker roles didn't feel...enough...to help make things any better. 

I took to posting (almost) daily positives on facebook - forcing myself at times to look for something good to set against the relentless doom-mongering of the press, the conspiracy theorists, the ill-informed naysayers... 

I discovered Pet Portraits by Hercule; Foil, Arms and Hog's sketches; binged on Battleship Galactica and Bridgerton.

My street developed a stronger sense of community as we all made sure everyone was OK, had a street party for VE Day, put up Advent windows, and sang carols.

We discovered the joy of growing food, watching the birds, spending time without rushing from one  thing to another because we were forced to stop and take stock.

I knitted socks. Over thirty pairs of them. And taught someone else to knit them too. I also knitted 45 stars to hang on my fence in the run up to Christmas for people to take - and they did.

I wrote a creative writing book, launched the second of Tilda's adventures and finished writing her third. I helped to edit a friend's anthology of short stories. 

There's other stuff too - like a short holiday to Wales in October, family homemade pizza Fridays, making musical pipes... 

In one way, there's life BC and there's life AC. But we haven't got to the AC yet. We're in a strange period of inbetween-ness, where the virus is still here, still impacting dreadfully on life, and we're not yet seeing the benefit of the vaccines (which are nothing short of miraculous, given the time scale in which they've been developed) although my dad has had the call to get his next week...

2021 is fast approaching. There'll be no resolutions from me, only the steely determination to get through this awfulness by being kind to myself so that I can reach a point where I can hug my parents and distant family members again, and life returns to something approaching what it used to be.

I don't know what kind of 2020 you had. I hope that you got through it, whatever it threw at you, and that you're able to face the new year with at least some hope in your heart, and raise a glass tonight to better times.