Thursday 31 December 2020

2020: fun to write. That's it.

It would be nice to be able to live up to the title of this blog - the skite bit - but it hasn't been that sort of year, has it? This is usually the post where I gloat about all the places I went and what I liked best, and all that. Well, exactly one year ago today I was on a Christmas cruise to Sydney sailing through the hellish orange smoke of the bushfires, and then a fortnight later flitted to LA for the joyful announcement by Viking cruise lines of their expanding from river and ocean into exploration cruises, building two new ships to take on the Arctic and Antarctic. Afterwards, I went to the Museum of Death.

Since then, I've been hunkered down in NZ, safe but bored. Yes, of course there are heaps of lovely places here to visit and explore but you need energy to sort out your own famils and I'm sure I'm not alone in finding that hard to summon up in 2020. There is, obviously, no reason to believe that simply clicking over into 2021 is going to make any difference - but I will try to have some faith in all those hard-working scientists and medical people, and look forward to perhaps, sometime, somehow, taking a step or two towards a version of normal that might allow some sort of travel, eventually. Maybe.

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