If 2020 was a fictional character, how would we say good riddance to it on New Year's Eve? Drive a stake through its heart then bury it in quicklime? Blast it into outer space?
For some, of course, this will have been a year of wonders: babies have been born, loves kindled, dreams fulfilled. For others who have lost loved ones, it will have been a year of terrible sadness. But for most of us, it's been a slog.
And we cannot even see it off in style. There will be no New Year's Eve parties, for which I feel especially sorry for the Scots. Hogmanay can be a bigger deal than Christmas.