I have very little to say in defence of 2020. It felt like an utter vacuum of a year. It was hard to write. It was hard to think. It was hard to be. Reading was the only thing which came easy to me in 2020.
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“On the whole I have had sense enough not to do things in public, except when it has been absolutely necessary, or would hurt people’s feelings badly if I didn’t.”
Agatha Christie “An Autobiography”
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“I BELIEVE it does not matter at all; I believe it is all that matters.”
Sara Baume “handiwork”
It was fifteen years ago this autumn that I first began the practice of writing daily. I’ve missed the odd day here and there but for the most part I’ve managed an hour or more at my laptop everyday for the last decade and a half.
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