20 Things I Discovered This Year Or Remembered That I Already Knew

January and February were the best months - for a change.

The Conservative Party is the single biggest threat to the prosperity and wellbeing of all ordinary people in the UK.

I miss London.

Dogs AND cats: you don't have to choose.

The Fall were amazing from beginning to end. Retrospective listening to their LPs and CDs has soundtracked my year; this has not been an entirely popular move in my house.

Social media can be a force for good: my music corner of Twitter is full of lovely people (just avoid that rancid cesspit, Facebook).

Caleb Femi's poetry collection, Poor.

Discogs.

Reality is gibberish (I saw Jason from Sleaford Mods being interviewed at the End of the Road festival in 2019 and he used this phrase. I wrote it down on my phone for future use; now seems like the right time).

I can happily survive on a rotating diet of vegetable chilli, butternut tagine and spinach and aubergine curry.

Cardomon pods are actually called cardomom pods.

Bill Shankly was wrong: football is not more important than matters of life and death.

One of my neighbours has more power tools than Black and Decker.

The BBC is still the best: Small Axe, Normal People, I May Destroy You.

My Scottish/Irish/northern English heritage has never felt more important to me.

Nubya Garcia's album, Source.

I'm glad I don't live in London anymore.

There can always be a new low in being a Millwall supporter.

England Is A Garden: a 30-year-old British Asian band made the album of the year.

Despair is cumulative.

The Old Normal

We venture out. As a whole family. The teenagers are a bit nervous: since the Covid-19 lockdown began to ease they've seen friends in parks and gardens but none of them have been to a built-up area, let alone go into a public building, move around in the same space as other people, sit down and eat and drink in a restaurant.

The De La Warr Pavilion in Bexhill-on-Sea has just opened up again after a long closure and we wanted to support our favourite local institution. Numbers are obviously limited so we booked online for a two-hour Sunday lunchtime slot. This gave us access to the exhibitions, the shops and the café.

When we arrive it's all very welcoming. We are asked to wear our masks in the gallery spaces and the shops but we do not have to as we move around the building or in the café. The café is where we head for first as the teenagers find it difficult to go more than two hours without food. The staff seem genuinely pleased to see us: these are their jobs and they're still here; how many jobs is the country destined to lose when the furlough scheme ends?

The food comes and the lime and coriander chicken is a hit with the carnivores; the black bean and beetroot falafels are a hit with me. The Guinness is even better: home drinking is ok but being out and having a pint feels like a liberation. We all admire an elderly gent sitting in the corner: he has a sea-facing table for one, iPad and earphones, pint of bitter. He alternates his gaze between the horizon and his screen and every so often lifts his mask to have a swig of beer. He looks inordinately happy to be out in the world. The middle teen asks me if that's what I aspire to in old age; damn right.

Afterwards we don our masks and wander through the Zadie Xa and Marc Bauer exhibitions and then the kids go off to walk along the seafront and search for ice cream. We mooch around the gift shop: my wife picks up some Eric Ravilious cards and I get a Derek Jarman book. I start to flick through the racks in the Music's Not Dead record shop, now located in the main foyer. I stay too long, obviously, and am left on my own. I buy a Fall album and find a rare Nico LP that I can justify the price of.

The two-hour slot comes to an end so I step outside into the afternoon to find the others. They are all relaxing on a wall eating 99s; the terrace bar is open and some people are soaking up the sun and the beer; a smattering of cyclists and dog walkers are parading on the promenade; this all feels (almost) like the old normal.