Just to let you know: I’m refraining from posting an end of year round-up.
This is partly because, since this blog only started in December 2009, nigh-on everything you will find in the archives listed on the right is from 2010. And since I already gave a potted round-up of my favourites in one of the just-post-move-to-OT posts, I won’t bore you with a repeat.
The other reason I will be eschewing a round-up is that, though quite a lot happened in my world this year, I am too knackered to recall much of it now. I attribute this to two small children, the tightening of the financial noose on British Universities and the associated fear and loathing for all their employees, and a generous dollop of general middle-aged gloom as my 50th birthday looms into sight. There was also the general election in May and its aftermath, which has not been, shall we say, to my political tastes.
Anyway, enough of that navel-gazing. New Year’s Eve is a time for traditions. So here is one some readers may know, and others not. Partly to celebrate both sides of my childrens’ heritage (the English and the continental), I shall follow my blogging medical friend Dr Grumble (whose excellent blog I commend to you if you are interested in what is really going on in the British NHS) and declare, for this New Year’s Eve:
The Same Procedure as Every Year