A postcard from the 8th of January, 2021

So far, my end-of year lists have been pretty good, mostly. That albums one was everything I was hoping it would be, and in any other year you might have got some similar (if slightly shorter) lists for novels, short stories, etc.


There is a problem.

I didn’t read much this year, and what I did read I mostly read before the 23rd of March. Lockdown sucked up spare time like an vindictive Noo Noo – a Noo Noo that eats spare time instead of tubby custard – does that make sense – it doesn’t, does it – stupid metaphors…

I’m trying to say I didn’t have (or more precisely didn’t feel like I had) any time to relax with a book. My reading went to shit. I didn’t do any reading. I bought books but didn’t, you know, actually read them.

So I have decided that 2020 and 2021 will from this point onwards (though probably only on this blog) be thought of as one big year. If all goes well, January 2022 will be a month of massive, luxurious, opulent yet tasteful end-of-two-years lists. I hope that makes sense and is acceptable.