If the Stockwell Christmas Tree is standing, then it must be time for the most anal onionbagblog post of the year.

Thirteen [!] years ago and this event almost signalled the end of this blog. I am a man of routine, and I was repeating what had already been said:

“Look, here’s the Stockwell Christmas Tree. I told you about this twelve months ago, and chances are that I will be telling you about it in twelve months time. This must mean the end of onionbagblog.”

But I had a change of heart, brought on once again by routine.

I work / I play / I blog about it.

But the it seems like the Stockwell Christmas tree isn’t standing this year.

Oh dear.

This will be the second consecutive year.

Christmas 2015 around these parts was all about the roadworks for the new Stockwell gyratory.

Now that these are finished, I’m not entirely sure what has happened to the Stockwell Christmas tree for 2016.

Has this blog actually out-lived the Stockwell Christmas tree?

Or is it possibly a foil by Lambeth Council to try and put an end to my annual naval gazing blog post?

2016 has been a year of paranoia, Comrades.

Truth be told and I really couldn’t be arsed to write a Stockwell Christmas Tree post for 2016. My blog has become a daily diary in itself.

Why the need to probe and share any deeper?

But 2016 has been something of an extraordinary year - not so much for me on a micro scale, but certainly in terms of macro events.

I personally didn’t want to let is pass without documenting for my own reference how I have tried to make any sense out of the past twelve months.

Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen.

And then Brexit and Trump.

I very much doubt that the loyal readers that return here really want to read the reflections of another bedroom blogger on these events.

But they have influenced me to some extent on a personal level.

Bowie - and especially Prince - led to many reflections back to my teenage years; Brexit to a degree has caused a change of direction in how I go about blogging the silly hyperlocal stuff.

Put simply, there came a tipping point in the summer where a number of external events led to me to think woh: I want out.

The killing of Jo Cox highlighted to me how the political can become the personal; the divisions of Brexit is something that still trouble me greatly.

I was finding in Brixton that the ‘us’ that I was unwillingly becoming associated with were undertaking some actions against the ‘them’ that I could not support. They actually turned me off the cause - whatever that cause might be.

I retired the Brixton Buzz quill.

For now.

Plus it was taking far too much time to read through every Lambeth Council document in an attempt to keep up with the pace of change. The sniping around the edges was starting to drag me down.

This all coincided with the events that came to define my own personal 2016.

I have already written in detail about the death of the mad cat.

A tear has just appeared on the keyboard as I type.

I had no idea that this would shake me up so much. The world has been a thoroughly unpleasant place for some in 2016. The death of a cat shouldn’t register.

But it did.

It also contributed to the online retreat.

I haven’t really shared any details about my Dad. But it has been five months of worry on this front as well.

Life really is too short to spend an evening reading another Lambeth Council Planning document.

I retreated further back in Sunny Colch on The Chronic front, pretty much for all of the reasons above.

The Chronic has built up a decent base in which to hopefully spread something positive around the town.

I came to despise attending meetings where nasty tribal political sorts took enjoyment about being nasty and tribal towards others whose views they opposed.

And here was me, equally as guilty, spunking out snarky tweets to highlight the farce of how local government works.

I have since returned to Colchester Town Hall, but with little enthusiasm.

The feedback from others online encouraged me back. I want to do something with the momentum that The Chronic has built up over the past five years, but I have yet to really figure out precisely what.

All of this withdrawal led to me finding myself with some spare time [ha!] towards the final few months of the year.

It was time to play catch up back in the world of work. I hate to think of how much money I have lost as a freelancer as a consequence of time taken up on hyperlocal matters.

The clients that we continually pick up at work always impresses me. Some projects have been pretty cool, others a bit of a tech and logistical headache.

But there is a decent remote team in which to lean on. A major rebrand in the New Year will throw up new challenges.

I still LOVE the three South London schools that I am fortunate to work in. I often wonder though what value I am able to add?

Feedback is sometimes limited; school management teams have more pressing matters to deal with on a day to day basis than commenting on the choice of an image for a website.

The SW9 school received a particularly praiseworthy Ofsted report at the end of the year. I played no role in helping to achieve this, but I was so proud of the staff and the students.

I have been involved a little more in community matters throughout the past twelve months. It is a description that I don’t really buy into; if you don’t take an interest in the place where you live, then why are you living there?

I took an apolitical role in helping out online with the local Indies as they stood for election in May. They put up a decent show in helping to influence the final outcome in the CBC local elections.

I had a much more active contribution with the new Colne Radio website and crowd funder that followed in the summer.

This is something that was planned pretty much since the start of the year. I never doubted that we would reach the £3,000 figure. To end up with a final sum of over £5,000 was an amazing achievement, especially so with the Brexit fall out was taking place all around us.

I’ve kept the connections with Colne Radio, and was kindly offered the title of Social Media Manager. It’s a big of a slog to be honest. I chip in as and when.

The recordings over the summer for the Neighbourhood Plan folk were a pleasant distraction from the mad cat situation. One of these was recorded on the same day that we said farewell to Murphie 🙁

The very kind invitation to work on the lovely Warm and Toasty Coast to Coast project came at a time when I was feeling very mournful about mortality. It proved to be the perfect pick me up.

As for 2017?

I need to be more ruthless with my time.

Family comes first.

And then work.

I’m afraid that community is just an after-thought.

This might sound harsh, but I have sailed far too close to the wind with the first two of these for far too long now.

It’s time to invest in the personal and the world of work, instead of giving away my time for free with no return.

I’m also a firm believer in just doing your own thing.

Anna and I both stopped reading Time Out in the first half of the year. There are only so many puff pieces you can read about pop up crisp cafes in a part of town that you seldom pass through.

I prefer actually living my lifestyle, rather than reading about somebody else’s.

The lovely lido and summers spent at The Oval is where the action is for me.

Which more or less concludes the Stockwell Christmas tree post in the same way that I did back in the day, some thirteen winters ago.

I am a man of routine.

I am repeating what has already been said.

2016 was a terrible year for some. We just about got through unscathed.

I know that some very personal challenges might be around the corner.

You carry on, doing your own thing.

Have a good one.

*I realise that I haven’t mentioned the kittens.

** Or Anna, really.

Whoops.