I feel I should have more to say about 2012 than that it was most notable for being a year in which I didn’t have a portion of leg amputated.  Logically this trauma-free year should have been the one in which I started writing a new novel or play but it’s been a year of acclimatisation, adjustment and reluctant acceptance with none of the adrenaline rushes or surges of creativity that punctuated the previous two in which the surgeon’s saw played a more significant role.  Any free space in my head seems to have been taken up with resisting fearfulness and despondency and trying to reclaim a sense of spontaneity. On a practical level, I’ve had to identify a couple more hours in each day to accommodate getting the leg on (which can take anything between 20 seconds and half an hour depending on nothing in particular) and getting from A to B at a fraction of the speed I used to move. I feel a bit like a train much of the time; it only takes a bit of ice or some wet leaves to make me grind to a halt.  The desire to retreat into a sedentary, solitary, life free from the fear of falling or having to explain to people why walking is so difficult and that, yes, this is probably as good as it’ll get, is sometimes overwhelmingly attractive. But I am determined to pull myself together in 2013.  I’ve lent my box set of Friday Night Lights to one of my brothers, knowing that if it remained in the house I would succumb to a third viewing and never write anything ever again.  I’ve booked a flight to the USA to spend a week with Anna, exploring Portland, Oregon. I’ve arranged several theatre trips even though I know I’ll spend the journey to and from London worrying about how I’ll navigate the space between the platform and the Virgin Train. But then Nurse Jackie has set the bar pretty high in the getting a grip stakes.  When, in a bleak moment, I told him he’d better outlive me as life on my own would just be far too hard work, he didn’t just roll his eyes, but promptly lost three stone in weight and started swimming.  And if that’s not love…