As ever my end of year review is a mixture of the global the local the personal and the political.
It is, by the nature of things, my entirely subjective look back over the last twelve months.
I do not make any claims that what you are about to read is a definitive account of the last twelve months.
It is just what has struck me over the last few days as being significant about 2015.
The year was only two weeks old when Planet Fitba and, in particular, visiting Hearts fans saw The People in all their klannish brutality.
The match at Ibrox January 16th was abandoned after just 25 minutes because the snow covered pitch and the yellow ball just wasn’t viable as a sporting spectacle.
Outside of the stadium, a mob gathered and attacked the front door of Argyle House. The usual suspects in the media deflected, minimised and mitigated.
However, it was thuggish behaviour and two Sevco employees, a woman and an elderly man, were assaulted by the klan.
In the same month, the London Stock Exchange was informed that Sports Direct had provided a credit facility of £10m to Rangers International Football Club (RIFC).
It was secured against the major assets of RIFC including the training ground and the intellectual property.
In February the Jihad chaps attempted to impose an Islamic blasphemy law on the free thinkers of a satirical magazine in Paris.
The civilised world stood as one with Charlie Hebdo.
However, the reverberations of this atrocity were even felt in Govan.
Mr Christopher Graham a Non-Executive Director (NED) of the Rangers Interactional Football Club (RIFC) reacted to the massacre.
His re-tweet of a crudely drawn cartoon of the Prophet Mohammed (peace be upon him) in sexual congress with another man was deemed to be enough for him to leave the Blue Room.
The recipient of his tweet was Islamist hate preacher Anjem Choudary.
At the time, I stated that I did not agree with Mr Graham’s apparent capitulation.
The freedom to parody ideas, even religious ones, is central to living in a free society.
Satirising deeply held beliefs is not the same as inciting hatred of those who hold those beliefs.
Mr Graham indulged in the former not the latter.
Therefore, he should, in my opinion, have faced down the Islamist mob.
However, instead, the Ibrox NED displayed the Dunkirk spirit and left the field of battle while the French faced down the fascists.
Et voila Planet Fitba had their very own Charlie Sevco!
In March the Off License Putsch was victorious, and all of their campaigning delivered total victory for The People.
They had Real Rangers Men in charge and, of course, the vast personal wealth of Mr David Cunningham King.
Nothing could possibly go wrong after that.
In the same month, my newest play premiered in Glasgow as part of the St Patrick’s Festival.
‘Hame’ was centred on a Glasgow Irish family dealing with what life was throwing at them during the Independence referendum.
Every night was sold out and it was cheered to the rafters and Joyce McMillan of the Scotsman gave it a very favourable review.
In April, I lost a friend and Planet Fitba lost the best leader they never had.
It was a beautiful day in the Kingdom of Fife when we turned up to honour the life of Turnbull Hutton.
Immediately after the creation of the Sevco club we had met in Edinburgh, we had already struck up a firm telephonic friendship.
In the vernacular of Scotland’s national game he was different class.
He is regularly in my thoughts and I was thinking of him the following month when Sevco stumbled.
I know he would have chuckled at the outworking of the play-off tie between Motherwell and Rangers.
This was a fixture that was not meant to happen.
If the chaps in charge of the national game had had gotten their way in 2012, then all of this messy sporting merit stuff would not have been needed.
Turnbull Hutton did not bend to bullies and he called out corruption where he found it.
In 2012 he won a massive victory for Scottish Football and for basic decency itself.
In the same month as Sevco were consigned to another season in the second tier of Scottish football the Labour Party in Scotland were consigned to history.
The pay back for ‘Better Together’ during IndyRef was brutal.
They now have one MP in Scotland.
As the Scottish political landscape was changed utterly, there were some comforting constants.
Sevco was still a shambles.
On Friday 12th, June the Extraordinary General Meeting of RIFC was called by Mr Mike Ashley.
He didn’t attend, and neither did the RIFC chairman as he had been summoned to meet with the Sports Direct owner.
I broke the story and, without the available press release, the stenographers were stunned into silence.
The fact that the meeting took places was confirmed later in the year at a court hearing in London.
In June, the Belfast Telegraph responded to the National Union of Journalists about claims made on social media by the Rangers Supporter Trust about their professional relationship with me.
In July Mr Jim White travelled to South Africa to interview Mr David Cunningham King.
Before the chap from Sky was airborne readers here were aware that the interview was going to take place.
It was a vainglorious own goal that would lead Mr King to face contempt of court charges brought by Mr Mike Ashley.
Even showing off the much-vaunted wine cellar turned out to be something of a misjudgement.
Indeed, the entire episode could be characterised as glib and shameless.
The world was busily ignoring the Syrian refugee crisis when the image of Aylan Al-Kurdi face down and lifeless on a Turkish beach did more than a thousand opinion pieces about that conflict.
It was a line in the sand for those with truly human values.
In 2015, the cynical cartography of Sykes-Picot continued to unravel with horrible consequences.
The disaggregation of Syria, in particular, has created a humanitarian disaster on a scale not seen since World War Two.
In October, the Irish theatre lost an irreplaceable giant, and my little Maisie McLaughlin paused in the halls of Trinity College to remember Brian Friel.
The RIFC AGM in November was a car crash with good PR.
However, it remained a corporate pile up at the end of the day.
Mr David Cunningham King stated that the board had decided to pay back the £5m to Sports Direct. Indeed, he stated that it had only taken an hour to raise the cash.
This turned out later not to be…err…quite accurate.
The board had tabled several resolutions that were necessary to be able to raise fresh equity.
However, they were voted down.
The stenographers did as they were told, but it was a total car crash, and there is no real Plan B at the time of writing.
Also, in November, I was voted as a Finalist in the Football Blogging Awards.
Many thanks to all of you who voted for me.
Not everyone was delighted for me and some of The People showed some of that Dunkirk Spirit and Did Walking Away.
In the penultimate month of the year my Boys In Green came good when we defeated Bosnia Herzegovina to reach Euro 2016.
The Joxer and Whacker reunion tour.
All over Ireland next summer the phrasebook and jump leads for the van will be looked out.
Also in November the same type of nihilists who slaughtered the staff of Charlie Hebdo were once more on the streets of Paris punishing the Parisians for being free and secular.
Dear reader the Jihad chaps cannot be allowed to win.
It will, of course, take courage to face down their medieval nihilism.
We will know victory is at hand when some young Monty Python type film maker from the Middle East presents ‘The Life of Mohammed’ to a film festival and no one gets hurt.
This will be a long conflict.
The year ended on Planet Fitba with many unanswered questions about the financial health of Sevco.
On Christmas Eve, a single sentence statement about £5m being sent to Sports Direct has yet to be confirmed.
As the year closed, there was, of course, no doubt about the rude health of the klan subculture at Ibrox.
The match against Hibernian had a soundtrack of the people fondly remembering their favourite Fascist.
The usual suspects in the media either didn’t hear anything or sought to move onto other subjects when questioned about it on Twitter.
On the Home Front, I have much to be grateful for.
The Big Trinity Fella is now the out in the world.
His graduation was a happy day in Dublin.
The little one has taken her place at Trinity where she is studying medicine.
She has now been re-named by dad as ‘Baby Doctor’.
Her first action as a citizen of this Irish Republic was to vote in the Marriage Equality referendum.
My trio and their old dad all voted to make Grá the law.
The North East of our island remains, for the moment, a biblical redoubt of faith-based homophobia.
However, their day is almost gone.
I can exclusively reveal that Middle Child is no longer a teenager, and there doesn’t seem to be anything that Number One Daughter cannot tackle.
I’m now increasingly hopeful of how they’ll progress in life.
It would appear that their mother and I have given the planet three seriously smashing people.
At the start of the year, I was writing a play, and it is with the same task that I see the year out.
This one is entitled “Rebellion” and it will come to life in March 2016. It is my love letter to Éirí Amach na Cásca and to my Fenian blood.
Later in 2016, it is my plan to publish my three plays in book form as I think they work well as a trilogy of sorts.
Within this work will also be a series of previously unseen short stories covering a twenty year period.
My publisher, as ever, is enthusiastic and open minded about what I have to offer to the reading public.
They say that before you die you should have a child, write a book and plant a tree.
The arboreal task has eluded me, but I managed the other two and I’m cool with that.
Thanks to the skill of a wonderful podiatrist 2015 saw me getting back to the simple joy of walking long distances again.
Most days now I manage about 5 miles and my problematic Achilles tendon seems to be on best behaviour.
The constant in life is change until the greatest change of all comes, and life is no more.
The passing of people towards the end of the year made me consider the inescapable fact that my life is, at best, mostly done with.
I certainly don’t have another 57 years in front of me.
This makes time more and more precious to me.
It has been my plan for some time now to call a halt to this blogging thingy, and I’m nearly there dear reader.
Although I push the idea away, it reappears with increasing frequency and each time the thought is more clearly formed.
I have made sure that regarding domain registration and web hosting this site would remain extant for many years if I were to Do Walking Away.
I hope I have done the state some service.
You know’t no more of that.
There are no new lessons, only old ones that we occasionally forget.
Perhaps one of the most important is this one:
An áit a bhfuil do chroí is ann a thabharfas do chosa thú.
I forgot that simple wisdom in 2015.
I hope the year ahead is good to you and yours.