It was the beast of times, it was the worst of times. It was timeless, yet it’s gone on forever. How do you describe 2020?
Walking out of the FP office for the last time, laptop under my arm so I could work from home, waving breezily at my colleagues as we all thought this would be over in a couple of weeks… walking the empty South Bank and then across a silent Victoria station with the virus warning echoing from the tannoy. 2020, suitably enough, was the year our dystopian future finally broke through from fiction, and manifest as full reality.
I confess, though: at the beginning, I was enjoying it. My life was utterly hectic – working commuting, writing, raising a teen – and the sudden slowing of pace let me see how tired I really was, gave me space to expand and think. The creatives of Twitter rallied round to make stuff up and share it out; we all shaved our heads and became bakers overnight. We clapped the NHS, meaning every strike of it, admiring those key workers who put their lives on the front line.
But the year congealed. The monochrome fingers of ‘come down’ began to keep in.The FP van came to get the laptop; the dread and isolation began to grow. The clapping became empty, farcial in the face of Government hypocrisy and incompetence; I lost my job, and crashed and burned.
Against a backdrop of increasing darkness, though, I’ve been fortunate. With huge thanks to Andrew Girdwood, and to Jon at the team at Handiwork, I had another job within a week (and counted my blessings, seriously). I’ve written more wordcount in a single year, this year, than I’ve done… well, probably since I finished Ecko Burning and that must be eight or nine years ago. And I’ve just finished the longest single MS I’ve written since I completed Artifice in 2016.
Funny – FP, the store, South Bank… now, they seem like another world.
I’ve ended the year with (what looks like) a physical injury that’s making focusing difficult – but still counting my blessings, y’know? However we’ve got through this, whatever we achieved – even if it’s only to keep our heads down and reach the year’s end it’s enough. And to all those who have been on the front lines, who have lost family, or struggled through the disease themselves, or who’s been plagued by the dog (you know the one), my heart goes out to you.
I’d wish everyone a better 2021, but I fear the darkness is going to get worse before it gets better. So spoil yourselves, love those close, appreciate the good things, take escapism where you can, and remember to look round at beauty. And cuddle your pets, because now more than ever, it’s the little things that matter.