A year we will never forget even if we ever want to

HAVE yourself a merry little Christmas. So said our Boris earlier this week as he desperately tried to balance rocketing coronavirus infections with the nation’s desire to get together with their loved ones for the festive season. I dare say that behind a fair few front doors there may be some considerable sighs of relief. A big family Christmas – especially if you are the host – can be one of the most stressful times of the year and I suspect that our collection of little family Christmasses this year might surprise us all. I hope so, because one thing is for sure, and that is the run up to the season this year has been super-stressful, with just about everyone I know wrestling with will we, won’t we, should we, shouldn’t we, and if we do, who, what, why and when anguish. Thankfully all negotiations in the Martin house and with our connections have been polite and constructive, but I have heard this is not the case in every home. We are not all brilliant at dealing with change, especially at Christmas when family tradition and rhythms are deeply embedded within us.

With all our decisions made, it is time to enjoy a break. No work, no gym, no alarm clocks. Who knows I might even stay up after 10pm. It is also time to look back, and to reflect on a year that none of us will ever forget – though many of us may want to. It was a year when life changed forever, and I don’t think anyone has begun to grasp how much. It was also a year when many have re-evaluated exactly what is really important. Each one of us will have experienced different changes to our environment and routines. My year has been extraordinary. Since March I have spent most of my time at home, some of my time at the gym, did four days walking on the coastpath and went off patch twice to go to dad’s funeral and the scattering of his ashes. I have had one face-toface business meeting, one breakfast and this week went to a recording studio to be interviewed for a podcast. That is it. Apart from the funeral

I don’t think I have worn a shirt with a collar, proper shoes, a suit or even a jacket. Apart from the supermarket I have not been to a single shop, and I made it to the pub two or three times in the immediate aftermath of the first lockdown. For the first time since I was, I guess, seven years old I have not been to a single cricket ground. Not one. For someone who is one short of having visited every first class ground in the UK (Grace Road you’re next) and has played, umpired or watched on pretty much every ground in Devon, that is quite something. I have not been on plane or a train or a boat, and have physically met friends twice, once for a socially distanced tea, and once for a proper old night out. The funny thing is, that’s it been ok. Lots of it has been nice. I have loved being at home more, and have not missed my twice monthly episode of planes. trains and automobiles in order to go to a meeting. I have rediscovered music, am fit as a flea, and have been studying again. I have learned a lot about the people I work with, their incredible resilience, and not inconsiderable skill. I’ve learned that editing a newspaper in pyjamas is cool, and that our freedom to do pretty much whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted, where we wanted was very precious indeed. I also learned a lot about grief, and how it can haunt you, and catch you in unexpected moments. I learned a lot about Dad in this, the year that he died. I learned that I loved him deeply. He would have been horrified if I ever told him that.

Happy Christmas everyone.