It’s been a year for finding new, and hidden, talents
Closing the lid on my laptop for the last time for Christmas has been as much an occasion for reflection as it is for celebration. Getting to this point in a year as unparalleled as 2020 without either tipping the scales at 20 stone or having endured long-lasting emotional trauma feels like I have reached the summit of my own personal Everest.
I’m not on my own of course as billions of people around the globe easily deserve a certificate declaring: ‘I have just survived the maddest year of my life without sticking a pencil up each nostril.’
But I’m going to give myself a pat on the back nonetheless.
I’ve always been of the belief that you are never too old to learn a thing or two and my year has been all about self-discovery.
I’ve learned that I can indeed multi-task, a point well proven during my eight-week stint as a pseudoteacher while trying to do my day job.
I say ‘teacher’, it was more a cross between a nightclub bouncer and Red Coat with very little learning taking place, unless you count teaching your reception age child words he really shouldn’t know until he learns to shave.
This claustrophobic period in history also reminded me why
I have the physique of a deity – Buddha – which is largely down to my aversion to strenuous exercise, meaning that our daily sessions with the indefatigable Joe Wicks lasted no more than 15 minutes before I needed to sit down for a breather.
These past 12 months have also served to prove once and for all that I have the patience of a very angry Jack Russell and this short fuse was sorely tested during those very first weeks of lockdown when the queues outside of every supermarket were almost reminiscent of Moscow just after the fall of communism.
The bubbling anger and frustration that I still routinely experience whenever a stranger reaches across me to grab a family-sized packet of Curly Wurlys remains under wraps because being banned from the local branch of my local German discount supermarket would be justifiably described as a bona fide disaster.
Last week I succeeded in uncharacteristically keeping my lip buttoned while being kept waiting by a ponderous shopper, who not only fondled 12 packets of sea bass fillets until she discovered a packet with a suitably long date but habitually scratched her face as she rummaged.
We had pie and mash for tea instead that night.
Cooking has long afforded me an outlet for the many frustrations which build during a day but this year I have knocked up more meals from scratch than ever before and, if I do say so myself, my culinary skills are all the better for the extra practice.
While I won’t be troubling the
This claustrophobic period in history also reminded me why I have the physique of a deity – Buddha
producers of Masterchef anytime soon, the frying pan is no longer my go-to kitchen utensil.
I am, however, quite proud that I’ve resisted the temptation to inflict homemade sourdough loaves or stodgy banana bread on my nearest and dearest
The kitchen has, quite literally, been my home for the past nine months as it doubles as my office, and while there are obvious challenges with spending so much time in one place, lockdowns and the various restrictions on everyday life have taught me to appreciate the hand that life has dealt me.
Not everybody is within reaching distance of the fridge and kettle and a dozen steps from the downstairs toilet, which is extremely handy when you are on mute during a video call.
This has been a year of learning many things, including that slippers can be legitimately worn by people under 70, particularly if you want to keep the heating costs down or are wanting to avoid being crippled by stray Lego, which ought to be banned under the Geneva Convention.
Hopefully, this will be a year unlike any other, one we can look back on as a period of time when we discovered our hidden depths and talents.