In a year when the term, permacrisis became embedded in common discourse –both as adjective and state of mind – those who believed the onset of 2022 would herald a return to relative stability and (relative) certainty were in for quite the disappointment. So as we bid farewell to another year, it’s time to cast back over some highlights of the Driven to Write year, one where reading the runes made as little sense as reading the (automotive) news, where forecasters flung their crystal balls aside in exasperation and most of us simply resigned ourselves to Continue reading “2022 Review”
Well, here we are again – another winter of long shadows and dashed hopes. Amid what appears to be the worst festive movie sequel ever, we reach a brief pause in the narrative. A time to make sense of the past twelve months, to marshal our gains and to reflect upon our losses – at least until the storyline sweeps us off our feet and into the immense unknowable once more.
Summer has returned and in now habitual fashion, the newly vacated DTW offices have taken on a distinct Marie Celeste bearing. Creaking timbers, the unmistakable aroma of stale sherry, cigars and charred office furniture – not to mention a gaping hole in the schedule – consequence of Mr. Editor Kearne’s precipitous departure to fortify his appetites at some unspecified summer retreat deep in the Andalusian hills – lord help them.
In the unaired half-light of our ninth floor headquarters, mystery abounds. The whereabouts of Myles Gorfe remains a pointedly unanswered question. His seasonal ticket to Granada lies unopened upon his desk. Packages of secondhand blue oval spares from as far afield as Bosnia–Herzegovina pile up, yet nobody, least of all his estranged wife Brigit appears keen to investigate his disappearance.