I try to force my shoulders down from where they seem permanently set somewhere above my ears, turn to face myself, and wonder how the hell one sums up a year like 2020.

It seems only a brief moment ago when we first heard the news of a potential threat that surely, like so many others before it, would pass us by. This was the start of 2020, a year of the future where fantasy would become reality and we would all push forward after a couple of hard years.

But in the blink of an eye we were locked down in the sunshine — with Mother Nature seemingly rewarding us for slowing down — clapping our NHS heroes and simultaneously worrying about our livelihoods while feeling guilty that we were quite enjoying spending more time at home with the family we had hitherto rarely seen.

Pride

I remember getting emotional when chancellor Rishi Sunak stood up and announced the most astonishing package of help, and feeling proud whenever our industry had an extraordinary moment of ‘We are all in this together.’

The calls from competitors, the support for our lenders as they battled with an avalanche of calls from people inspired to take a payment ‘holiday’ whether they needed it or not, and the fact that we were all remembering that we could be kind to each other, to ourselves, to the planet.

This was surely a fundamental turning point in history, after which our work/life balance would always be in harmony and the daily commute would seem like a thing consigned to the history books, where future generations would look at pictures of crowded trains and laugh at the madness and futility of it all.

Then came the outpouring of relief when, just as we wondered whether there would be business to go back to, the housing market opened again and a tsunami of pent-up demand exploded onto our desks, with the added need for people to move to places further out, to have space and home offices to take advantage of the new world.

Not only were things moving once more, but onto this fire of sudden activity the government emptied a few cans of kerosene in the form of a stamp duty holiday. Suddenly, no longer commuting just meant starting at the desk earlier and finishing later, with no proper breaks or meaningful holidays; work and home times seemed to merge in a frenzy of activity. We all started to get used to the new way of living, to new words like ‘furlough’, learning to conjugate the verb ‘to Zoom’, and where the phrase ‘You’re on mute’ became our most uttered.

We learned to work with a dodgy internet, and meetings disturbed by spouses, kids, dogs and goodness knows what else, but by heck did we deal with it.

Distance no problem

We all adapted, we became more collaborative over distance, and we managed to write business in record numbers. Sport returned, Liverpool won the league, and it was gonna be OK.

Cautiously, we started to return to offices, to settle into some workable semblance of a new normal.

Then came track-and-trace apps that worked as well as a chocolate teapot, politicians breaking their own rules, a daily battering of news about infection rates, speculation on the number of unemployed, the new tier restrictions, the dreaded ‘Lockdown 2’, and the realisation of what we all probably knew at the start: we were in the hands of idiot leaders hopelessly guessing.

Although we had loads of applications to submit, each one was the equivalent of submitting four, given how hard it was becoming to process them. The backlogs and issues we tolerated in the first few months got worse, not better. Cases that normally would have flown through got questioned more on speculation than fact, a worrying trend of underwriting by Google search and rumours.

First-time buyers, the very people who needed the stamp duty assistance, were shunned, the self-employed were the lepers of society and, while capacity was always the crux of the issue, there was no mistaking that risk had become an equal player.

We then started noticing the effects of all of this on our mental health, how the absence of a few pints after work and someone to have a quiet chat with in person, plus the very fact of not being around other people, had begun to cause issues. We had faced the stresses of work: of having too little, of having too much, of seeing the same four walls, of endless emails and online meetings, of hanging on phones for hours, of clients going through personal issues, of BDMs and lenders clearly experiencing their own stresses and strains.

On top of all of this were the obvious health worries caused by a pandemic.

Political events

We then had a symbolic change — Donald Trump’s election loss. Make no mistake, this is a big thing, however much he protests. A change in Boris Johnson’s ranks too marked a new direction. Then came the tantalising prospects of not one but several possible Covid vaccines and Christmas with the family. A definite light at the end of a very long tunnel.

What we all need to do when looking back on this year is remember not only who was there for us but how, as an industry, we showed once again what we were all about: how passionate we were about what we did and about each other. Remember how we all mucked in, how we took the strain on our shoulders and continued to battle for our clients, for each other, for our industry and livelihoods.

Most importantly, whatever happens next, we must make sure we learn from this period and not blindly go back to how things were. Next year will not be a walk in the park, but a positive attitude, a sense of determination and a willingness to keep adapting will stand us in good stead.

I have learned so much this year and, although sometimes you may think I write some trite bollocks, I am passionate and proud and inspired every day by you. Social media has now become, for the most part, a fantastic window into the soul of our industry: the brokers who make a difference, who try new things, who wear their heart on their sleeve and say ‘This is me, this is what I do, and by heck I’m proud of it.’

We are also facing up to some difficult issues as an industry, not just mental health but more meaningful discussions around equality and diversity, around how we attract a new breed of people with fresh ideas and different ways of looking at things. It will strengthen us.

Our last look at the money markets this year shows that three-month Libor is still at a miniscule 0.04 per cent, while swap rates have risen by the width of the fabric that separates the multiverse. Since the last column:

2-year money is up 0.03% at 0.08%

3-year money is up 0.04% at 0.14%

5-year money is up 0.04% at 0.24%

10-year money is up 0.03% at 0.45%

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, a restful break, and a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year.

In the words of William E Vaughan, remember: an optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in; a pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.

Be the optimist.