Well that was 2013.
It is the time of the year for me to look back.
As usual with these seasonal pieces it is a mixture of the personal, the familial, the local, the global, and it is all entirely subjective.
First thing’s first – 2013 was a great year for me for one major reason: all of the people in my bubble are well and in good health.
Anything else doesn’t come close as a priority and I am sure it is the same for you, dear reader, and proper order too.
My brood are three cool Gaeilgoiri, they know who they are and they know that the love for them here in this little house in Dún na nGall is non-negotiable.
Their upbringing has been very old fashioned – despite their digital forays into Korean pop music and online strategy games!
Here on Austerity Island we are re-learning that we all live in each other’s shadows.
The Bean a Tí does her bit through her church for folks who are worse off than ourselves.
The house atheist can’t join in, but I do see the human value in the communitarian aspects of life that were – shamefully – abandoned by many in this country during the Tiger years.
In 2013 I think we got some of that Meitheal spirit back in Ireland and we are the better for it.
The image of the age seems to be the food bank and it shames us.
After giving billions to banks that squandered the money entrusted to them by their depositors, the state has imposed poverty on communities across this country.
The IMF bailout officially ended this year, but we are still essentially a vassal state of international finance.
This year, too many of our young people left Ireland – a lot of them to Australia – simply because we cannot provide opportunities for them here.
In November I took part in a conference for PR professionals in that great, dynamic country.
The organisers wanted to fly me out there, but in the end they were ok with me “appearing” on a big screen in the conference hall.
I wasn’t the only remote contributor as the guy from Wikipedia remained in California.
Perhaps I just don’t have the wanderlust – I’ll be happy enough if I see out my days on this island…
Certainly two of my three will have to leave Ireland to pursue their chosen careers.
However, the baby of the brood sees a future for herself here.
On Planet Fitba it was the year of Sevco and the Frankenstein creation of the five-way agreement lurched from one crisis to another.
In the past 12 months this strange creature has had three CEOs and as many Nominated Advisers (NOMADS).
I have counted 14 directors since Sevco was established: Charles Green, Imran Ahmad, Brian Stockbridge, Ian Hart, Malcolm Murray, Phil Cartmell, Bryan Smart, Walter Smith, Craig Mather, James Easdale, Sandy Easdale, Norman Crighton, David Somers and Graham Wallace.
Craig Whyte appeared at the start of the year and claimed that he had a beneficial interest in Sevco 5088.
Moreover, the case stated that ‘5088’ owned the Albion Car Park, Ibrox Stadium and Murray Park.
His legal chums in the Worthington Group prepared and sent a ‘Letter before Claim’ to Charlie and the boys, but after that there was silence from the billionaire that shops at Tesco.
However, the claim was valid enough to be recorded in the year end accounts by Deloittes.
In April, the police raided his castle as part of an ongoing investigation into his purchase of Rangers in May 2011.
Craigy boy was back in court at the end of the year defending a civil action against Ticketus for the £17m he lost – the people who bought futures in Rangers season tickets want their money back.
This one has a few chapters to run yet.
The in-house media operation was a pantomime in itself and that was embodied by James Traynor, who didn’t last a year in the director of communications post.
He was a train wreck of a PR who went head to head with Jack Irvine and lost.
I was, I have to admit, fairly repetitious throughout the year about the impending cash crisis at Ibrox.
However, I was trying to get through to The People and they aren’t that quick on the uptake.
They didn’t listen to me when I predicted what would happen to Rangers and I’m not doing any better trying to educate them on Sevco.
The klan snarled and smeared throughout 2013 any time that I did point out an inconvenient truth about the tribulations of the tribute act.
This online harassment was designed to silence me and it would appear that five years since I first started writing on Ibrox matters the Queen’s underclass continue to do the same thing and expect a different outcome.
As ever, I continued undeterred.
However, after the inaugural RIFC AGM the Penny in the Arcade seemed to have finally dropped and many in the ranks of the Bearmacht were close to mutiny.
It was I have to admit wonderful theatre.
As I stated throughout this year, only a level austerity that will feel and look rather like administration will prevent formal administration for the new club.
It would appear now that even some of the slow-learning klan have finally got it.
After the December AGM a distinct whiff of fear replaced the stench of supremacist hubris.
I admit that I find this new aroma rather fragrant.
Graham Wallace appears to be fit for purpose and I expect him to take a chainsaw to budgets next year as though he was an administrator.
The Fitba Fourth Estate, if anything, performed even more shamefully in 2013 than they did in the year that Rangers died.
They peddled the same club myth with a Pravda type discipline.
Their attempts to spin that Dave King was not a convicted criminal was shocking even by their standards.
The Daily Record gushed with an ‘exclusive’ that the London Stock Exchange had given the all clear to the South Africa-based tax cheat.
It took me two phone calls to check out the veracity of the Record story; it turned out to be pish and they had to alter their online version of it.
This year I expected a book or two to be out in time for this Christmas charting the demise of the first club to play at Ibrox.
Amazingly there hasn’t been a single book from a Scottish sports journalist to jostle for space on the store shelves beside Downfall.
Now this has delighted my publisher, but it has somewhat puzzled me.
Had something similar befallen a major English club there would been have a catastrophic de-forestation created to cope with the plethora of books on the subject.
In Scotland the opposite is true.
Of course, if any book looked at the collapse of Rangers it would have to examine how this current entity came to be in existence and there are very few journalists in Scotland that want to go there in any depth.
A regular feature of my work over the past few years has been the extent to which many in the Scottish media have shied away from serving the wider public interest in order to placate the klan.
In 2013 we saw more of that.
The intimidation of journalists who dare to speak the truth about matters Ibrox continued and for that, Planet Fitba and indeed all of Scotland owe the BBC’s Jim Spence a large one.
He had the courage to state on BBC Radio Scotland that, in the opinion of many, Rangers died and what is now playing at Ibrox is a new club.
The online klan went into overdrive.
Like the foot soldiers of some totalitarian regime, they consider that their job is to ban opinions that don’t fit and they use fear to banish inconvenient truths.
I was highly unimpressed that ‘Spencey’ received so little public support from colleagues.
This problem will be fixed when this leaderless rabble is finally brought to heel.
Subsequently, I was pleased by the conclusion of the David Limond case.
In that one vignette in September 2012 we had all the strands of the Rangers story in its entirety.
Once more the Fitba Fourth Estate was posted missing.
As regular readers here know, Mr Limond will be sentenced next month at Ayr Sheriff Court.
With journalists in Scotland like Angela Haggerty and Jim Spence there is some hope that the klan will ultimately lose.
If they win and all journalists are cowed by a fascist lynch mob then Scotland will be a very sick place indeed.
I am happy to report that both Angela and Jim received excellent support from the National Union of Journalists in 2013 throughout their respective ordeals.
In April, I also received some justice and a rather unpleasant piece of business was concluded when the NUJ ruled that Mr David Leggat was “not a fit and proper person” to be a member of the union.
In 2013 the NUJ in Ireland hosted the World Congress of the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ).
The theme of the congress was based around journalists and other media workers who have lost their lives in the line of duty.
This year alone, 71 journalists have died doing their jobs.
My own role as a lay officer in the union expanded this year when I was made editor of the Irish Journalist, the NUJ’s in-house magazine for members in Ireland.
I am honoured to be the latest in a long line of outstanding editors.
The first edition under my stewardship appears to have met with the approval of their high standards.
I know they’ll be watching for edition number two early in 2014.
No pressure then…
Around the time that the Irish Executive Council (IEC) was discussing my proposal to take the ‘IJ’ entirely digital, the klan were being regaled with an ‘exclusive’ in the blue blogosphere that “moves were afoot in Scotland” to strip me of my membership of the NUJ.
I was informed by a buddy who sent me links and screen grabs.
It was, of course, fantasy, but as I have learned over the past few years the lumpen customer base at Ibrox cares little for the truth.
Nor do The People seem to be capable of observing any identifiable moral boundary.
Their visit to Berwick last February showed that the same belief system had TUPEd over from Rangers.
The only difference that day was that ESPN rather than a Scottish broadcast organisation was involved.
They apologised to the viewers at half-time and notified the local police.
The spin from the SMSM went into overdrive afterwards; it was aberrant and the lads had been doing so well recently, perhaps it wasn’t real Rangers fans etc.
Across the city the year started with angry denial from some in the ‘Celtic family’ that any trouble at all had occurred at the Boxing Day match against Dundee at Dens Park.
I had several excellent sources and I was informed that there had been trouble at the game, including widespread drunkenness and brawling among Celtic fans.
The SMSM reportage was gleeful and disproportionate and I wrote that at the time.
I was, however, convinced that Celtic had a behaviour problem with an element of their away support and that minimising and mitigating would only make this worse.
The Glasgow Cup final at Firhill in April saw wanton damage by some Celtic fans.
Seats were broken and pyrotechnics were set off at the home ground of Partick Thistle.
Then in July, during a Champions League qualifier at Celtic Park, fireworks of the very noisy variety were let off in the stadium’s section 111.
Referee Thorsten Kinhofer had a warning delivered over the PA that it should stop immediately.
I was at the other end of the ground in the Jock Stein stand and I felt the noise of these things.
I sought expert advice from Professor Steve Frosdick and he told me that these ‘bangers’ could sever a limb.
A month later in August Celtic told the occupants of section 111 at Parkhead that the party was over.
The club closed the section and stated that they would relocate season ticket holders from there or offer refunds.
The club then relented and let them back in, but warned that behaviour in the section would be monitored on a game by game basis.
The Green Brigade issued a statement where they addressed the issue of broken seats in their section by dismissing it as “collateral damage”.
I couldn’t see this ending well.
Then there was the debacle of Fir Park on 6 December.
Despite some attempts to minimise and mitigate what had gone on, the Green Brigade issued a statement where they edged close to admitting some culpability for the vandalism at the Motherwell ground.
As the year closed, the club took further action and moved 250 season ticket holders from section 111 to undisclosed locations around the stadium, but not all in the same place.
Shortly before that decision was made the Green Brigade transgressed on UEFA’s patch again, this time by displaying a banner that highlighted the hypocrisy and perhaps discrete racism behind the Offensive Behaviour at Football Act.
The point they made using the juxtaposition of William Wallace and Bobby Sands was unarguable.
However, it elevated Celtic up the UEFA discipline tariff and the Green Brigade didn’t seem to care about that.
UEFA said Celtic were in trouble because the banner at the Milan game at Parkhead made a political statement.
A few weeks later they ordered every UEFA match to have a tribute to Nelson Mandela.
If Celtic wanted to appeal any sanction on the Wallace/Sands display then they had their defence right there.
At the home game before the Milan match, a Green Brigade banner displayed a stylised “H” clearly alluding to Long Kesh with the words from Flower of Scotland.
I was in the main stand with two friends one of them a Donegal man and the other was ex-Celtic player and Lisbon Lion John Fallon.
The former has raised substantial sums for the Green Brigade and he had witnessed the chaos at Dundee on Boxing Day 2012.
The vibe around where we were sitting was that this political display wasn’t wanted at Celtic Park anymore.
In other news, the match itself was a pulsating tussle with a rejuvenated Aberdeen.
Celtic edged the match with two injury time goals.
That, dear reader, is what I was there for: to watch a football match.
The concern among some is that Celtic Park is becalmed sans Green Brigade, but I’m not that fearful of such an outcome.
In February this year I attended a home game against Dundee United when the Green Brigade staged a walk out.
I wasn’t aware as I was in Section 414, which is above section 111.
Celtic won that match 6-2.
Eight goals and a dodgy penalty awarded to the visitors – which Fraser Forster saved – created all the atmosphere we needed.
In my half century watching Celtic at Parkhead it has always been thus.
The ultras concept is a continental import and seems unnecessary to someone of my generation.
Moreover, anyone attending a football stadium who considers a broken seat to be “collateral damage” needs to have a look at themselves.
The unauthorised use of pyrotechnics in a sports stadium is criminal idiocy and even pleas from disabled Celtic supporters went unheeded by these uber supporters.
Celtic family indeed…
The Celtic board have been in a cleft stick throughout much of this period.
They were quite happy to make money out of the Green Brigade.
This was especially true of the prints of the amazing tifo display at the Barcelona game last season.
The club did not fund that celebration of Celtic’s 125th anniversary.
However they quickly had framed prints on sale in the club shops.
That said the club also knows that with every UEFA charge they edge closer and closer towards a partial stadium closure or ban on away fans a la Rangers and Malmo.
Celtic continue to be run on a prudent basis, but the failure to pay the Living Wage brings more shame on Walfrid’s club that the Green Brigade could ever manage.
Outside of these islands the carnage chaos of the post-911 paradigm continued this year.
The ‘successful’ Libyan operation continues to yield up instability and chaos.
At the time of the intervention, all I could see was a bad outcome for this adventure that deposed Muammar al-Gaddafi and led to his murder.
In Syria the civil war has now killed 100,000 with the city of Aleppo a Stalingrad in the desert.
The glimmer of hope is that a rapprochement with Tehran over the nuclear programme seems possible.
Britain, of course, is no longer a player at the global poker table, but just hobbles around like Spider in Goodfellas.
Vladimir Putin’s jibe about Britain being a “just a small island that nobody listens to” probably really stung the old Etonians in Westminster who wish it wasn’t so.
On the streets of London in May the Jihadi genie was out of the bottle and young Lee Rigby paid with his life in grotesque circumstances.
In the age of the smartphone, Michael Adebolajo gave a post-murder ‘interview’ to a passer-by.
With his blood-stained hands holding a knife and a meat cleaver, it was bizarre stuff from a Holy Warrior; a Medieval nihilism in the age of Twitter.
A Shankill butcher with a Koran, these are troubling times for an atheist, dear reader.
Despite an attempt by the English Defence League to mobilise a politics around Islamophobia, the EDL were thwarted by the basic decency of English people who realised that the butchers of Woolwich had little to do with genuine Islam.
The scoop of the year has to go to Glenn Greenwald as the journalist who brought Edward Snowden blinking into the light from his work station in the ‘Intelligence Community’.
The revelations about the NSA’s ‘Prism’ programme were narrative altering.
This is now unquestionably the age of mass surveillance and we should all be concerned.
The behaviour of the British government towards the Guardian and Glenn Greenwald’s partner David Miranda, detained under anti-terrorism legislation at Heathrow airport, is a danger to democracy itself in the UK.
It was inspired for Channel 4 to have Snowden deliver this year’s alternative Christmas message.
The logic of his case is unarguable and we should be worried about those who spy on our every digital murmur.
In 2013 we lost one of the most outstanding men in modern history.
Madiba Nelson Mandela at the age of 95 went to his rest eternal.
Here in Ireland there was the squalid sight of a generation of Irish journalists, who had entered the trade in the years that Sinn Féin were banned in the media, panic struck at the globally viewed images of Gerry Adams TD as part of the guard of honour.
It said far more about them than it did about the Dáil Deputy who represents Louth.
There was also a toe curling revisionism of Mandela’s life presented by the Irish media.
His political organisation, the African National Congress, had a military wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe, which conducted a highly efficient guerrilla campaign (sound familiar?).
Their biggest success was the attack on the Sasol Oil refinery in 1980, an operation that the IRA was intimately involved in.
Without the technical expertise of Óglaigh na hÉireann engineers the attack would not have taken place.
Mandela was the imprisoned leader of a revolutionary movement that killed people and blew things up.
The hacks in Dublin had to try and airbrush all of that from Mandela’s CV and portray him as a black Gandhi.
Madiba’s own view on IRA decommissioning was not for the fainthearted and he wanted the Army to hold onto their weapons.
Both ANC fighters and IRA volunteers came to love and cherish the iconic Kalashnikov assault rifle.
As 2013 closed, the eponymous inventor of the weapon passed away.
Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov was 94.
His AK47 (AK for Automat Kalashnikova, 47 for 1947, the date of its first manufacture) was a brilliant design.
He saw service in Red Army tanks in the war against the Third Reich and, recovering from his wounds, devised in his mind the rifle for future short range, mainly urban, firefights.
It remains a peerless work of genius.
Yes, ‘AKs’ kill people. That is what they were designed to do.
Kalashnikov’s masterpiece is wonderfully simple and utterly reliable.
Kalashnikov himself, as a tank sergeant and a weapon designer, was a patriot who served his country well in war and in peace.
Once touring the Royal Ordnance factory in England to see the Mr Bean creation that is the SA80, he caustically remarked “you must have very clever soldiers”.
Britain doesn’t have many soldiers anymore, clever or otherwise, and in 2013 the reality of the UK’s shrinking military ability became more and more apparent.
I suspect that few people here in Ireland did not recoil in shock horror at the behaviour of “Marine A”.
Sergeant Alexander Blackman is, of course, a murderer.
The Crown Forces have been murdering foreign folks for centuries
Thankfully, Britain’s ability to export slaughter is diminishing with every decade.
One day they might be just another country with a defence force.
In Afghanistan, the futility of their involvement there seems increasingly more apparent as they prepare to withdraw.
As the year was closing there were credible reports that the Karzai government was close to reaching a deal on the joint governance of Sangin with the local Taliban, a town where many British soldiers died.
They gave their lives in order to prevent the Taliban… err… taking control.
Did they die in vain?
Damn right they did!
In the literary world, Seamus Heaney’s prolific pen sketched out the essence of the human condition and unpicked the woven fabric of Irishness so that we could appreciate the distinctiveness of all of the threads.
In 2013 he passed on.
I first heard his poetry read as a small child.
It was on a gramophone record.
Yes, dear reader, a gramophone record.
The piece was the ‘Requiem for the Croppies’, about the 1798 rebellion.
In my 20s I read and considered and reconsidered ‘Station Island’.
His response to being included in ‘The Penguin Book of Contemporary British Poetry’ (1982) was brilliantly unanswerable.
He penned a poem titled ‘An open letter’ to explain that he was Irish, not British.
“Don’t be surprised if I demur, for, be advised
My passport’s green.
No glass of ours was ever raised
To toast The Queen.”
His work, and his memory, are immortal.
Towards the end of 2013 I lost a good friend and Planet Fitba was bereaved of a brilliant mind that prolifically unpacked the convoluted and arcane of the legal world and made it simple.
I still can’t fully process that Paul McConville has gone.
I miss him and over the festive period my thoughts were with his family as they faced their first Christmas without him.
When I think back to my own bereavements, especially my grandparents, I think of the Christmas dinners before and after their passing.
It is the day of the year when, as a family, you feel their absence from your life most of all.
I was reared not to speak ill of the dead or to celebrate a death.
However, there are always exceptions to any good rule.
In 2013 I don’t think I was alone in taking some small glow of satisfaction that I lived to see the day that vicious war criminal Margaret Thatcher breathed her last.
The gag of “Sadly missed – in 1984!” was heard in a few hostelries here in Donegal in the days that followed her expiration.
I shared that piece of rebel wit with one of my cailíní in this kitchen; she paused for a second before she got it and responded by breaking up in helpless mirth.
My daughter’s laughter was like the sound of revenge on the butcher of the Belgrano.
Thatcher’s premiership was the last hurrah for the generation that came to adulthood amid the collapsing scenery of the British Empire.
That was an imperium that murdered millions and dispossessed even greater multitudes.
Yet it is that historical moment that the Fleg underclass eulogises.
Thatcher was calamitous for the North of Ireland and almost certainly prolonged the conflict by a decade.
Thousands died because of her intransigence.
The future doesn’t belong to her or her kind.
In the North, the Fleg underclass punched themselves out in the first three months of 2013.
The PSNI held the line and Jamie Bryson, the protest leader, turned up at court dressed as a Native American.
Given the role that the ‘Ulster Scots’ played in the extermination of the Plains Indians; it showed a highly developed sense of historical illiteracy.
A first anniversary Fleg demo earlier this month was planned for outside Belfast City Hall to protest at the Union flag now only flying on 18 designated days each year.
The organisers confidently told the police to expect 10,000 people in attendance, but in fact little more than 1,000 made it out to protest at the erosion of their ‘culchurr’.
I was reminded of this when I looked at the invisible crowd outside Ibrox on the day of the new club’s first AGM.
There was no one there…
Yes, no one.
This isn’t a confident subculture that we are witnessing; it is imploding into self-destructive rage and then slowly ebbing away in hopelessness.
Their enemy is equality and they fear the future, and you are correct to pity them dear reader.
I know I do.
Only cowardice and weakness will encourage them to hold onto their fascist belief system.
As the year drew to a close, US Envoy Richard Haass was in the North trying to deal with flags, emblems and the past.
He left having achieved little.
However, the changed demographics in the Six County statelet mean that the old Orange State is gone and it isn’t coming back.
Dissident Republicans thankfully failed to kill anyone in 2013.
Even anti-agreement Republicans of the stature of Anthony McIntyre have told them to stop their pointless campaign.
One day I hope they’ll listen.
They offer nothing and certainly cannot achieve anything positive for the people of this island by their continued use of arms.
They should desist, disarm and disband.
On the island as a whole the Sinn Féin project is on course.
In the 26 Counties Sinn Féin are poised to make major gains in upcoming local and Dáil elections much the chagrin of many in the Dublin establishment.
In Scotland, 2013 was the year that saw the question that the people of the country will answer in 2014 decided.
2013 saw the white paper for Scottish independence launched amid the usual marketing fanfare that seems integral to modern politics now.
However, this is historic stuff.
Unlike the Anschluss in 1707, next year the Scottish people will be asked if they want to remain within the United Kingdom.
Whatever the result, that is human progress.
This time next year we will know if Scotland wants to be an independent country.
The referendum debate started properly after the SNP government launched the white paper.
Looking in from the outside of the independence debate, the unionists seem an odious bunch dealing in fear.
Unionists in the UK dealing in fear… Hmmm that sounds familiar!
In October, the phone-hacking trial began at the Old Bailey with Rebekah and Charlie Brooks among the defendants.
Like Leveson, the outcome of this legal process will leave an enduring imprint upon the media in Britain.
For me it was another year and another published work, this time on anti-Irish racism in Scotland.
Of course, the last person to have a valid opinion on a book is the author.
However, I was gratified that in the month of November Minority Reporter was the bestselling Scottish book in WH Smith’s main store in Glasgow.
The feedback is excellent and most satisfying of all the klan seemed to have realised that they cannot bully a book out of Glasgow bookstores; on that point they have surrendered.
As the year draws to a close there is another manuscript in preparation for publication next year – this time a very very different project.
However, it wasn’t all work for me this year.
The mountains around here continue to beguile me and every day is different, even on the same route.
I remain addicted to the movies and that for me means a trip to the cinema.
A movie means popcorn, the whole nine yards.
My film of the year was Gravity.
This action movie set in space literally sucked the air out of my lungs – amazing – and as well as defying gravity it re-launched Sandra Bullock as an A-lister.
All time is relative, especially if you’re a Time Lord and in November the BBC broadcast the Doctor Who 50th anniversary episode.
I still remember feeling totally safe and reassured by William Hartnell as the first Dr Who.
The Daleks, of course, had the six-year-old me hiding behind the couch.
I can’t wait to see what Peter Capaldi, Dr Who number 12, makes of those sociopathic dustbins.
On the Irish small screen I’m still hooked on Nidge, but the shortened series of Love Hate this year forced Stuart Carolan to compress plot lines and annoyingly it also subverted character development.
Despite that, every Sunday night I was like a strung out junkie waiting for Nidge to bring me my fix.
More please Stuart, and note to RTÉ, a bigger budget would not be wasted on this Irish flagship series.
Love Hate raised the bar for TV crime drama this side of the pond and in the character Nidge, Stuart Carolan has come damn close to creating an onscreen persona, played brilliantly by Tom Vaughan Lawlor, as hypnotically fascinating as Anthony Soprano.
The New Jersey mob boss will now definitely not make a return as James Gandolfini died in the land of his parents.
He breathed his last in the eternal city and his depiction of the male midlife crisis and the disintegrating Cosa Nostra as a metaphor for the decline of the USA was a the final victory for grubby realism over the stylised metaphor of Americana provided by the Godfather trilogy.
Homeland – for all the ludicrous plot lines, such as Al Qaeda working with Hezbollah – had me ensnared for another series.
Claire Danes and Damien Lewis deserve all of the accolades for keeping the show on the road.
With Brodie gone I hope that Homeland doesn’t jump the shark.
The next series will tell.
My book of the year was Ian Cobain’s Cruel Britannia.
This is brilliant journalism looking into the dark history of the Westminster state and torture.
I hope we see more from the keyboard of this very fine Guardian journalist.
If you’re reading this then it probably isn’t your first visit, and the traffic on this site continues to astound me.
On a busy day there are more page views than some newspapers in Scotland have daily sales.
Thanks to all of you.
This is a new type of media which, at its best, can subvert the covert infomercials of the mainstream with the PR-generated puff pieces and corporate agendas.
I have help in running this site and I have to record my thanks to TCN Web for their brilliant tech support.
I hope ye all have a great 2014.
I certainly can’t complain about 2013 for the year that was in it.