When I reflect on 2020 and the pandemic my first thoughts are of wild pigs, glorious autumn days and horse riding. And of managing to be late for awkward video meetings even though the venue was my own bedroom ... meetings gatecrashed, without fail, by ravenous teenagers and our attention-seeking cat.
I survived by not beating myself up for quietly freaking out at the start whilst everyone else seemed to be happily making sourdough and doing yoga. But mostly by getting out in the hills every afternoon on the horses, hoozleing the odd hog out of the scrub for fun and talking nonsense with my kids.
I discovered I really like people who are genuine, honest and straight-up — loyal friends are gold. I liked going to the supermarket. The staff were such champions and people chatted in the queue. It was heartening ... a reminder we were all in it together. I appreciated too the rude slap-in-the-face of Covid-19 making us realise that yes, we should very much appreciate what we have. Phew, don’t have to be told or make effort in the ‘‘being grateful’’ department any more.
I learnt I didn’t like the uncomfortable realisation that nothing is certain and the clock is indeed ticking. If you’re not at least attempting to be living your best life — within the constraints of life’s responsibilities — then you’re actually being a bit of a dick.
I rediscovered [and] I think 2021 will be the one chance for us all not to be dicks. Not to blindly rush back into over-tourism, unchecked growth, environmental slackness, rushing about like headless chickens without taking time to have fun and talk nonsense. But will we take it?
