If you are reading this, two things are true. You are alive and oh, you have the Internet. Such a wretched thing.

On this, the cusp of three twos and a nought but in a different order, I wish us to rejoice in the myriad things for which we should be optimistic.

We will soon learn some new Greek letters, as in A—B—C Alpha—Delta—Omicron. So easy when you know how.

Our noses will be much cleaner with each poke of the cotton bud, when for years we’ve been sticking them up our ears.

And knowing that for three hours and fifty-nine minutes* we can spend time with one another and emerge immersed in a fountain of health.

With these things, dear friends, our miracles of 2021 will yield to a fresh splendour of months in 2022 all ending in Y, R, H, E, L or T.

So join me at midnight and drink to “Yrhelt!”

My goodness are we going to need it.

*Yesterday Australia’s federal, state and territorial governments declared only those in the proximity of Covid-positive people in their home—or with them in a household context for four hours—need get tested for Covid-19 as “close contacts”.

This morning Australia’s daily Covid case numbers exploded: New South Wales (21,000 up from 12,000) and Victoria (6,000 up from 5,000 possibly undercounted). Other states are still to report.

In Australia, after two long years, Covid-19 has finally been unleashed deliberately and uncontrolled. Covid protocols are disintegrating, Australia’s economy is grinding to a standstill; its people are told to treat themselves absent personalised contact from their health departments—a service formerly guaranteed.

Happy New Year.

© 2021 Adam Parker.