And why not?

January: Filled with angst, and I unleashed a shit storm of unrivalled proportions; February-June: Moments of delight amongst the aftermath and clean up; July-August: Pleasant times in France, interspersed with low level angst; September: Too much time spent alone, even keel reached; October: Illness strikes, I reach 40 with a superb birthday party; November-December: Movember, low ebb reached at work, culminating in a richly worded clear the air session... Snow never quite matches the promises of the dratted weathermen. Christmas is lovely.

In other regards:
Writing - 100 odd poems (as in roughly, not that they're odd, although they may be), organised novel, wrote about 500 words of it, and a couple of short stories.
Technology - buying a 1939 typewriter; frustrated by battery life on my allegedly high end phone.
Entertainment - Music was mainly filling in gaps, until the latter part of the year I found little new I liked.  Television wise, I enjoyed family times with Merlin, and cavorted merrily in the wonders of various 70s dramas, notably 'All Creatures Great and Small', 'The Likely Lads' and 'Secret Army'.
Work - Pah. Fuck off.  Don't mention it.

Best book: Henry Porter "The Dying Light"
Best film: errrr
Best album: I Am Arrows
Best: Watching Secret Army series right through with my wife through December. Wonderful.
Low: Work. Or January.