This year threw the Oxford English Dictionary into fits when it came to naming their word of the year. Ultimately, they changed the rules, renamed it Word of an Unprecedented Year, and selected a whole bunch of words and phrases to choose a winner from. And then decided they simply couldn’t choose one single word to sum up the year. Both Merriam-Webster and Dictionary.com kept it simple and plumped for an obvious candidate – Pandemic. Collins picked an equally obvious candidate in Lockdown. Aussie dictionary Macquarie went for the more adventurous Doomscrolling.
For kicks, I’ll name my own Word of the Year. I’ve been giving it a bit of thought over the last couple of days. I’m tempted to go with March. It was certainly the month of the year, and lasted for an unprecedented 214 days. I also gave due consideration to R, because it’s not often than a consonant could be described as a word in its own right. And I could certainly make a case for Pragmatic, which is how I have tried to approach the trials, tribulations and opportunities of the last year. But Merriam-Webster picked that in 2011, having given it second place in 2010. I don’t want to be a copy cat.
Renaissance or Resurrection would work on this blog. Having signed off in mid 2019, promising to never blog again, I changed my mind at the start of the year and these pages came back to life. I also pondered choosing a phrase. You Can Jolly Well Fuck Right Off would top that list. I’m all for hearing different perspectives. I consider my mind to be a suggestion box, receptive to good ideas. It’s not a landfill site for dumping useless trash and nonsense. I’ve sent the antivaxxers, conspiracy theorists, Trump cultists and general idiotists packing this year, en masse.
However, I’m not picking a phrase. And even if I were, YCJWFRO has been something I’ve thought, spoken silently or muttered under my breath rather than said out loud. So I will choose a single word. I’ve made a choice in accordance with my criteria. What were my criteria, you ask? It should be particularly relevant to myself and instantly relatable to the year by anyone else. Witty, if possible. Different. Memorable, even. I looked through my calendar this morning, and it came to me, quite suddenly, a bolt from the blue. A word, or script, that sums up almost all my plans for the year. Probably yours too. My word of the year is:
2020.
The Mexile 
I’m working on the dichotomy of Reciprocity and Retribution as base words for the concepts of liberalism and republicanism. My friend Guy has opened a small can of worms with Norm in this basic area of thought.
2020 was a good year for me but then I’m on the sidelines, retired and all. I saw Trump off to the showers, my tribe will have a go-we’ll see.
I’m glad you came back to writing-it was good for me, you as well, I hope.
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That is a can of worms. Enjoy! You’ll get a productive debate out of Guy. I’ve enjoyed a lot of the stuff he shares on Facebook / his blog. And Trump is indeed headed into history. It’s sad the damage he has done that won’t be undone. To society, global security and simple friendships. I’ve sent more than one Trump cultist packing this year. It’s sad, but they’re in the same intellectual league as chemtrails, holocaust deniers and antivaxxers. I’m done with that type of reality denying loon.
It has otherwise been a good year for Mrs P and I. I’m pretty sure I mentioned early in the year that if we can keep ourselves in paid employment and good health then we’ll be ok. So far, so good. But obviously this is an ongoing challenge…
I enjoy blogging. It’s a diary of sorts. It’s good to look back on life, from time to time. Glad you’re still on the journey.
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