Whoever said “that which is measured improves” has never drawn a pencil outline round a damp patch on the ceiling to see if it’s growing. Sometimes, that which is measured gets much, much worse, in some cases before your very eyes. Still, a little verification can’t hurt. When facing a future as unimaginably bleak as 2023 promises to be, now seems a good time to draw a big pencil outline around 2022, using nothing but cold, hard numbers. This, then, is where things stand for me statistically at year’s end. 33.333 Percentage of my adult offspring successfully coaxed into independent living the past year. Although that leaves 66.666% of my sons still at home, I still regard this as remarkable progress in the current economic climate. The oldest one now seems to be permanently launched upon his newly fledged existence, and my wife has turned his bedroom into an office just in case. 26 Dark evenings I spent searching for the tortoise in one of his seven outdoor hiding places, having decided that predicted overnight temperatures might pose a threat to his health. He has never been grateful, not once. 17.5C Daytime temperature where I was on 19 July, when the UK was experiencing its hottest-ever day, with thermometers hitting 40C. I was on holiday in Cornwall, and yes, it was raining. 21 Live dates the band I’m in played in 2022, up from six in 2021 and just one the year before. 1 Number of gigs before which I found myself briefly alone and locked in a darkened backstage area, unable to raise the alarm, with just minutes to go before showtime. We’ve got even more dates booked for 2023, so I suspect this may happen again. Somebody may be trying to send me a message. 8.5 Dead mice found in the house since the start of the year, thanks to the brutal vigilance of the new cat. That’s not eight mice and one half mouse, by the way. It’s 17 halves. 3 Dual-function kitchen tap spray head replacements I purchased in 2022 (according to my Amazon order history), all for the same tap. Actually, the description is a bit misleading – it should say: “Dual-function for approximately four months, after which the button will stop working and it will be stuck on whichever function you used last, until you give up and buy another one.” Even so, at £9.99 each, at least it’s a catastrophic design flaw I can afford. 4.6 Approximate hours, of the 8,760 available to me in 2022, I spent watching YouTube videos posted by heating engineers demonstrating how to adjust the flow temperature of my particular make of boiler – first to lower it in order to save money, and then to raise it again once it got properly cold outside. This figure also includes time spent watching videos about restoring optimal boiler pressure, which started as a spin-off hobby and ended with me having to dismantle a shelf so I could reach the relevant valves. 30 Years I have been married, it turns out. It’s amazing how these things creep up on you, in spite of the ample warning. Although the 30-year mark caught us both by surprise – we forgot to plan a party, or anything – I like to think this is because the time has simply flown by. I wanted to ask my wife if she felt the same, but we’re not speaking at the moment. 11.3 Hours spent watching YouTube videos of farmers going about their daily business. This is a genre I became aware of only late in the year, and quickly became addicted to. I can’t give you a good reason for this, although the views apparently supplement flagging incomes, and some farmers now make more from YouTube than they do from farming. I just find it soothing to watch people spread slurry, drive posts, fix gates and add and remove various tractor attachments. Even better, the pleasure I derive from this creates no corresponding desire to join in. 11 Friends, acquaintances and strangers who, after I revealed in print that for complex reasons I am unable to say “Torquay” out loud, tried to find a way to make me say it anyway. They were to be disappointed. A similar number tried to do the same with the word “pergola” but that’s a different issue. I can say pergola; I simply choose not to. 2 Haircuts the dog had to have. Both times the cat thought his newly shorn friend was a different dog altogether, and as a consequence went and hid under the washing machine for 48 hours. Don’t let anyone tell you cats aren’t stupid. Happy new year.