Celebrating the little wins

I love those who can smile in trouble, who can gather strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection.

Greetings, gentle readers. Welcome to the first Editor’s Blog of 2026.

I had a notion – nothing as cheesy as a resolution mind you – that I would try to be a little more upbeat this year. More Pollyanna, and less angry ranting at the world. Then a) I realised that many of you seem to like my ire-filled verbal rants, and b) I read the papers. One could be forgiven for thinking that the handcart has passed the last service station on the way to hell. Who had ‘invading and trying to takeover Venezuela’ on their Trump bingo card for 2026? Me neither.

To be fair, it might simply be that, even a politics geek like me, had become so jaded and fed-up with the state of world affairs that I simply switched off. Maybe those better informed and better connected than I am could have predicted it. I’d like to think that FIFA President Gianni Infantino is re-thinking that ‘FIFA Peace Prize’ he awarded the US President. Although, thinking about Infantino’s ability to read a room, maybe not.

So, there’s still quite a lot to rant about: it looks as though the Ukraine war, when it ends, will have a balance tilted firmly in favour of the aggressor, it’s freezing, and the US President, having set his targets on Venezuela’ deposits of heavy crude oil, is still talking about moving in on Greenland in the interest of ‘US Security’. Greenland, the land of snow and igloos and fisherman who have to cut a hole in the ice in order to catch their dinner (I may have been influenced by childhood picture books on that one). Greenland, the country that’s owned by Denmark, the nation that gave us Lego, good bacon and pastries. Also Peter Schmeichel. Can’t see the threat myself.

In the spirit of the start of the year though, I’m going to try and find a few things that I can be pleased about. Celebrate the little wins, if you like.

For starters, I went to my first bootcamp session of the year and I didn’t die, even though the trainer made me feel like that was his aim. Win.

The heating is working, and the garage has plenty of logs, so I’m warm, even though it’s like Winterfell out there. Win.

The government has, it seems, listened to the protestation of farmers and family businesses, and is re-thinking the thresholds of its inheritance-tax meddling. Win, sort of.

The cat has decided it’s too cold to venture out very far, and therefore the number of small rodents left as gifts by the sofa (or worse, at the end of the bed) has reduced. Win (for now, until Spring).

If you delve deep enough into the latest figures for the S&P PMI and various industry forecasts, you can, if you squint really hard, see that there might be a teeny tiny glimmer of optimism for construction. It’s a tiny needle of hope in a haystack of gloom, but it’s there. Win-ish.

I’ve spent more time than usual sampling the delights of NHS provisions in Kent and Sussex in the past three weeks on behalf of my ancient parent, and can report that, despite everything you hear, it is peopled at point of use by the very best of us. Those who are remarkably cheery and kind, doing their best to help and heal, even though it is 8am on Christmas Eve and, even more surprisingly, 9pm on New Years Eve. Win. Win.

And the days are getting longer. Win.