IT'S the weekend between Christmas and New Year. That odd hinterland where all the days roll into one and you wonder why Songs of Praise is airing on a Tuesday. Then you remember it is Sunday. Possibly. It might be a repeat. Or a hallucination from eating too much cheese. Whatever.

As you read this, I hope it finds you and yours well. I'll probably be slumped like a bloated slug on the sofa. Which is how I have spent most of this year. If I were to create a coat of arms, that would be the crest.

There's a good chance, as I gaze idly at the twinkling lights on the tree between reading a book and snacking on leftovers, that I'll be reflecting and ruminating on all that has passed. I often find myself veering between merriment and melancholy over the festive period.

This time last year, my wish was that 2020 would bring the opportunity to try new things. With hindsight, I should perhaps have been more specific: lockdown, social distancing and going to the supermarket wearing a mask weren't quite what I had in mind.

READ MORE: Susan Swarbrick's Week: All I want for Christmas is peace to read a book

After years spent guffawing at the movie trope of middle-aged women who rigorously apply hand cream before bed, I now find this is a grim personal reality on account of the fact that my paws are the texture of coarse sandpaper due to all the constant handwashing.

Not to mention the ravages of alcohol gel. Some days it looks like I have had a hand transplant from an elderly lizard or weather-beaten crocodile.

If there has been a lesson from this year, it is to treasure all we had previously taken for granted: freedom to go where we please, spending time with family and friends, and largely, our health.

I have become adept at finding joy in the moment. I have discovered how much being outdoors and amongst nature can boost my mood. I have drawn important life hacks from my dog. I have cooked beetroot in more ways than I ever thought possible.

On the flip side, there's a long list of things I'm thankful I didn't do. Such as not baking banana bread or pandering to a sourdough starter, the 2020 equivalent of owning a demanding Tamagotchi digital pet. Nor did I make a TikTok dance video, join the cult of Tiger King or give myself a DIY haircut.

READ MORE: Susan Swarbrick's Week: Five important life lessons from my dog

Hopefully, my biggest achievement is that I have evolved – adapted might be a better word – more during this past year than I did in the previous decade. I also feel I have aged. There are days when my soul aches from the perpetual thrum of anxiety.

What has surprised me most, though, is that I haven't lost hope. Pandora's box may have been thrown open, unleashing horrors we could never have imagined, yet, just like in the Greek fable, there's a little voice that says: don't give up.

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