It would feel wrong to miss out a year in my series of annual end-of-year letters – even if, for the most part, we can all collectively agree we’d much rather pretend 2020 never happened. Unfortunately, it did, and it’s left a mark on us all. And, try as I might, it’s difficult to look at this mess of a year and make any kind of sense of it; to seek out some semblance of meaning, or a lesson.
That, I suppose, isn’t strictly true, though. There are things to take away from it, but I want to be stubborn, to dig my heels in and refuse to allow the year 2020 to have any kind of ownership over me. That said, in all that it has stolen from me, it has also given me a lot.