I know I’m expected to write something about the rollover from one year to the next, but there’s a problem.
I don’t do New Year’s resolutions, so I can’t write about mine and I certainly don’t want to write about other people’s.
I don’t do a year in review. I spent too many years churning out year-in-review columns and specials for newspapers, magazines, radio and the web to do my own.
Besides, they’re a serious bore. If you thought an event was worth remembering, then you’ll remember it without my asinine prompting.
I don’t do the year ahead either. As my little sister has found out, forward planning and practical farming tend not to coincide for an instant longer than it takes for the ink to dry on the job list.
And I don’t do lists, either.
I’m not going to list my favourite bloggers of the year, my favourite websites of the year, my most read posts of the year, my least read posts of the year, or even my favourite pigs of the year.
I suppose I’m expected to thank everyone who’s helped or supported us over the past year, but that would be a list, I’ve already thanked them and, despite mutterings from the middle-class peanut gallery, I’m not into public displays of grovelling thanks anyway.
So what does that leave for me to say?
Happy New Year.
See you tomorrow.