The year that was

I have seldom been the sort to feel any great expectations from the end of one year and the start of another. A cow placidly chewing cud is unlikely to be recollecting the last year's chewed cud or look excitedly forward to chewing cud the next year. That, roughly, sums up my attitude to life.

Occasionally, though, there are those years that impose themselves on me. Mostly, they make me want