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Queen Elizabeth once famously referred to 1992 as the annus horribilis, one upon which “[she would] not look back with undiluted pleasure.” Among other calamities, it was the year of Andrew and Fergie’s separation, of Princess Anne and Mark Phillips’s divorce, of explosive revelations which set the already on-the-rocks marriage of Charles and Lady Diana hurtling towards the ash-heap of history, and to top it all off, the year that Windsor Castle burned down.
Right about now, I’m trending (see how woke I am?) in that direction with regard to my feelings about 2019. Not sure that the magnitude of disasters that have beset the denizens of Chez She are of monarchical or even royal proportions, but there has been one, after another, after another, and it will live in my memory as, if not the annus horribilest of my life, probably one of the top five.