A little stream of consciousness from my study on NYE where I’ve been sitting listening to that particular cold silence-y hum typical of this time of year. The week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve has been loooong and seemed to consist of about four Saturdays and then seven Mondays with an additional extra long Sunday afternoon, many of these elasticated moments of bent time have been grey and muddy, punctuated only by alarming breaking news items. It’s a grim time, it’s a pisser, it’s a time to hunker down and dig deep and find the resilience and to celebrate those optimistic glimmers on our horizons.

I’m sorry to whinge. I promise to cherish the linings (you know, the silver ones everyone keeps referring to ad nauseam, me included) and I vow to spread light and good cheer, and to boost the ‘figgy prozac’ as suggested hilariously in a NYT cartoon. I shall never speak of phantom smells again!

I hope that wherever you are you are with the ones you love, either virtually, in your imagination or IRL as my teen would say. I’ve loved sharing my thoughts with you and will continue to do so if you’ll have me in 2021, where I envisage myself trading in my online German lessons for a glittering dance floor instead…

Happy New Year!