There is never a better time than Christmas to paraphrase Dickens.
It was the best of times. It was mostly the worst of times. A time of cold-eyed experts. A time of swivel-eyed conspiracy theorists. A time of great political leadership. A time of spinelessness. A time of caring-for-your-fellow-man caution and compliance. A time of not-giving-a damn-for-your-fellow-man disdain and defiance. A time of quiet contemplation. A time of fog-horning intemperance. A time of marvelling about mankind's willingness to work together in common cause. A time of mocking mankind for sheep-like obedience. A time of recognising that the greatest liberty of all is life itself. A time of seeing every precaution against Covid as an imagined assault upon liberty.
When the scale of the crisis we faced became apparent in March it was accompanied by a very bleak warning that it was those in the 65-plus category who were most at risk: the weakest and most vulnerable, as we were often described. That was a huge shock to me. I was turning 65 in August and there's nothing like being told the Grim Reaper - who takes many forms - might have you in his sights, to bring you to a standstill and force you to reflect upon your life and mortality.
Ok, I've never written the 'great novel' I had hoped to write. To be honest, I've never even managed to write a crap novel. I've never played Sherlock Holmes on film or TV, although I have donned a fetching purple ball gown for BBC NI's The View and sashayed down the front steps of Stormont while singing I Am What I Am (honouring a bet I made with Clare Bailey about her winning an Assembly seat in South Belfast in 2016). I've never edited a newspaper, yet I've written for a lot of them. When all is said and done it has been an interesting life and, it's own way, quietly fulfilling.
As an older Dad I also worried. I was hoping to get to my late 70s - I'm reasonably fit - and see Lilah make it to her 20s and Indy reach adulthood. Megan, my eldest, is now at university. Yet a few months ago and without any warning or preparation I had to contemplate not being there for the younger two. And that opened the door to Mr D, the name I've given the recurrent depression I've been prone to since I left the orphanage in 1961 (I wrote about him in a piece for the Irish News in May).
It was a tough couple of weeks, because he was more vicious and relentless than he had been for years. There were a couple of brief moments when I was so kicked around by him I actually believed he would win our 60-year-long battle. The love for my family and, more important, their love for me, brought me through it. He hasn't gone (I sometimes hear him rattling around in the attic, or hovering above me when I'm tired) but his power over me has been diminished. And that's all you can really ask for.
The other thing I've realised over the last few months is how much of my life has been wasted on pointless spats and convoluted annoyances. I've also realised how much I should have been thankful for down the years, yet never took the time to express that thanks and pay it forward in terms of helping others. I've been extraordinarily lucky to have had so many people (especially in the very difficult decade after the orphanage) who were willing to see me through the darkest of days: days so dark I wasn't even sure if I wanted to see light again. Blessed, too, to have my partner Kerri, who recognises the signs of darkness and keeps a firm, loving hand in the small of my back.
Christmas will be very difficult and very different for many this year. But, do you know something, it will be the same Christmas as always, with the same central messages for Christians and non-Christians alike: love, compassion, care for each other and a moment for a light to shine through and pinpoint the opportunities for renewed hope. It has been a uniquely difficult year, yet it ends with the prospect of a combination of a return to normal and a sense that we've all learned valuable lessons.
Let me end with the words I've ended so many columns with in 2020. Stay safe. Stay well. Stay strong. Stay sensible. I'll see you in the new year.
