The New Year's Eve Ramble.

2021 was the year in which being a recluse became boring. I thought about it a lot and in the end came to the same conclusion as Macbeth: Returning were as tedious as go o’er.

2021 was the first full year of Covid-19. Concern about contracting the condition was a constant, but what made it different from 2020 was the fact that the condition changed from being a novelty to something which felt like a pollutant.

2021 was a year in which I did nothing notably troublesome, nor anything notably pleasing.

2021 was the year when I stopped trying to kid myself that the process of ageing is a mirage. The gradual drip of physical and mental degradation was a little too insistent.

2021 contains digits which total 5, which is a neutral number to me. 2022 adds up to 6, which is my least favoured number. I choose to presume that there is no significance in the fact.

I wish I could think of more to say on the matter, but I can’t. Goodbye 2021, and thank you to everyone who visited my blog.