Well, 2012 was what can only be defined as A Year.
It’s tempting to write it all off as horrible, but the truth is more complex. Isn’t is always?
2012 was professionally very fulfilling, and personally harrowing. (And that’s totally ignoring the fact I turned 40.)
2012 in extremis.
But we’re still here. And over the last couple of days my brothers, my step-mum, my sister-in-law, my nephew, my niece and I have woken up to this:
The lovely view from the balcony of the house my Dad built.
We’re really sad that he never got to see it finished, and truth be told having got through Christmas relatively unscathed I burst into tears driving into Anglesea yesterday morning just thinking about it. But I also know he wanted us to enjoy it, and we’re really going too and think of him every time we’re down there.
And as for 2013, a little more balance would be welcome. Really, that’s all I want.
Happy New Year.