Yes, 2020 was quite the year.
I had plans: people I’d worked with in the preceding years also had plans that were progressing, and those progressing plans’ becoming could/would/should have made 2020, like, My Year.
But, alas.
I could/would/should have been more productive so that at the beginning of a new year, I could look back with a sense of satisfaction of having written stuff. I could/would/should have beavered away in spite of the Alert Level changes so that I could greet 2021 with projects to offer to the world with a modest shrug.
Instead, I watched and read and exercised.
I start this year with my health, and the love and support of a good and patient Lovely Wife. Fortress Mamea is officially an empty nest which means I now have a study in which to smoke a pipe sit, surrounded by firearms my wee library, and doomscroll write uninterrupted.
I can/will/shall dream big again: I have some work lined up.
Tally-ho.
