It almost felt like 2020 would never end. In many ways, the year felt as if it actually lasted for four or five years, dragging on and on and on.
But I don’t have to tell you how grim the previous year was (I don’t think there are many who hold the belief that 2020 was their favourite year) and I certainly don’t want to dwell in the past, so I’ll just shut up about the cursed time that was 2020.
I welcomed in the new year with my girlfriend, and we threw ourselves a little party (don’t worry, we didn’t flout any lockdown regulations, as we were the only two people invited). We dressed up as if we were hitting the town – shoes included – and I even constructed a playlist reminiscent of the kind we’d hear in the nightclubs we frequented back when it was possible to. I even did the apartment’s first-footing, and I don’t really remember much of the evening after that, as I was drinking scotch (as well as about twelve other things, whoops) . . .
As opposed to the last few years, I haven’t written myself any real resolutions for the new year, other than the usual cliches to be healthier and to write more (the latter of which I’ve actually managed to stick to). I still have eight months left of my MA in Creative Writing, so I guess I don’t have much of a choice but to write all the time!
I am going to (try and be) more active on this website, using it to showcase my short works of fiction, and to create blog posts such as this one. I’m unsure that anyone will be interested in reading my inane ramblings, but I’m afraid I’m going to subject you to them anyway! (You’ve been warned)
I wish you all a happy new year, and let’s hope 2021 is a bit kinder than its predecessor (the bar is set pretty low for you, 2021).