Time is elusive: there are entire years where nothing seems to happen, and then a day comes by where it feels as though everything happens at once. I’ve listened to conversations over the last few weeks about resolutions and goals – people want to effect change, measure their progress in targets achieved over months. This time last year, I had every intention of making 2024 add up to something substantial. But the vague futility of that human urge to make every calendar year “count” was laid bare. Nothing much happened.

I’ve since concluded that 2024 was a “filler year”. To me, this type of year is best understood by what it isn’t: a “big year”. In the latter, you might check off a bucket-list milestone. A serendipitous meeting with a future partner could change the course of your life. You could start your dream job, or take on a new role as a parent or godparent. Conversely, a big year could be shaped by profound loss or a random cruelty that redefines who you are. In comparison, a filler year feels empty, insubstantial, unmemorable.

Why was 2024 a filler year? I’d love to tell you. It wasn’t for lack of trying to make it a landmark 12 months. I worked, rested and had plenty of goals to reach, but the harder I tried to attain them, the more they seemed to elude me. I was caught in a developmental Chinese finger trap. I........

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