Any chance of resetting the Grim Reaper sat-nav in ’17?

Oh 2017 thank God you’re here, says Suzanne Harrington. 

It’s not like we are expecting you to be spectacular, or even much fun, but so long as you’re not a surreal 12-month nightmare with special effects by the Grim Reaper, I think we’ll be fine. I mean, George Michael on Christmas Day. That was a bit harsh, even by 2016’s pitiless standards.

Just typing the digits 2 0 1 and 6 is making me sweat. Although in 2016, everything has been making me sweat, because January took not just David Bowie, but also my ovaries. A health false alarm catapulted me from spring chicken to menopausal boiler at the start of the year, draining me of lady hormones and placing the possibility of growing a beard into plausible reality. I have subsequently spent 2016 bursting into flames while telling anyone who will listen that I am way too young for hot flushes. Bowie died just days after my first emergency ambulance dash to hospital.