The Lost Year

Come the stroke of midnight we’ll warm the last of the mince pies on the top of the wood burner and pop open the fizz, not to see in the new year but to make damn sure the old one leaves. Let’s hope 2021 brings a return to normality and I can symbolically remove the mask from the knitted doll given to us by an old friend. Goodbye and good riddance to the lost year.

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