We are, I am reliably informed, near to that arbitrary point in our planet's orbit at which much of humanity habitually mark the end of one and the beginning of another. I'm usually neither sentimental nor self-obsessed enough to write something to mark the occasion with a blog post, but looking back on the last eleven months and thirty days I'm struggling more than usual to convince myself that nothing much has happened. Aside from being one internal organ down on the complement I started 2025 with fifty-two-and-seven-fiftieths weeks ago[1], a handful of things happened that I consider (in an entirely self-indulgent sense) to be noteworthy.
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| Seeing my own book for sale in the British Library's bookshop was pretty cool. |
I might even get away with describing some of them as:
