The times may be bad, but can years, by themselves, be bad too? If so, then my own annus horribilis is thankfully nearing an end. Rarely have I rejoiced in the passing of a year as much as I have 2017, one of the most personally ruinous to have stamped its presence. “Next year will be fine,” says my mother, who is a great believer in almanacs and astrological charts, “just let this one pass.” But for someone of adamantly agnostic beliefs, there is little relief to be gained from this mumbo-jumbo, though one can only hope that a new
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