The last sketch of 2024, a walk along the North Davis Greenbelt, another tree, the last of the year. Look at me writing “Happy New Year!” on the page ironically, as if 2025 was ever going to be any good. And yep, even worse than expected so far. These days too will pass, but what follows. I will keep drawing as much as I can, and I have been. I suppose I should keep drawing trees before they all get cut down or burnt, or fall over, or get sold off or deported or eaten. New Year’s Eve, I find it a bit useless, celebrating at midnight when the thing you are dreading most – January – arrives. At least I have the football, at least Spurs are good – oh, right, the opposite. We have a manager (who I think we still like) from Australia, and we are getting beaten Home and Away, losing to our Neighbours, our injured players are all at the Flying Doctors (and the Young Doctors), and Ange Postecoglou is looking like a Prisoner. It’s driving me Round the Twist. Happy New Year (yeah right).