The ended year will be etched in world history as a terrible year. It has been the perfect Greek annus horribilis, a season rich in unending tragedy, pain and suffering. In the first instalment of this column in January last year, I doubted the euphoric wisdom of shouting away ‘old years’ and shouting in ‘happy new years,’ almost as if we had sacred covenants with time. I questioned the notion of inherently happy years and sad years. It would seem that I was wrong.