It was not meant to be like this: we were not supposed to be reclining with Christmas surfeit this Sunday morning, wondering when the relatives would be leaving. Instead we were meant to be scrabbling through the stubble of barren fields, picking over the trash from uncollected garbage and fighting off hordes of rabid moggies and enraged possums. This was meant to be the year when capitalism crashed into oblivion and civilisation entered the new Dark Age.
Those were the predictions of a year ago. These were the prognostications of commentators and columnists as they contemplated the first Great Depression of the 21st century. From the grim Gareth Morgans to the wailing of the Treasury types, New Zealand was to be plunged into a great darkness – a black hole from which even hope could not escape.
Instead... dear God, is life any different at all? There has been a minor increase in welfare but employment abounds for those who want to work and don't have exalted opinions as to their ability. Even Tony Veitch can get a job in the new environment.
Yes, food banks report a booming trade, but that is surely due to them deciding that tobacco, alcohol and drugs must have their influence upon the family budget. And those involved in both the licit and illicit retail of such report no substantial decline in their profits.
In short, life ain't too bad. Most of us have sailed through this recession and instead used it as an excuse to economise on the Christmas presents of people we never really liked anyway. Even our house is still worth, roughly, what it was worth two years ago – as our latest rates demand reminds us.
Yes, we have become a little more cautious: we've cut down our after-hours carousing from three nights a week to two and we have stopped paying $30 a bottle for Kiwi wine that should sell at half that price.
We have even discovered Australian – the great fear of the domestic wine industry.
Sure there are some still viciously out of pocket as a consequence of being fleeced by the financial sector and, most notably, finance companies. But that is the nature of bubble markets: they must eventually burst because they are unsustainable. Banks don't burst. Neither do Bonus Bonds.
And they haven't. Despite all those scary media stories that we needed to hide our cash under our bed if we really wanted it to be safe.
Even the dollar has stayed high. By now the Kiwi dollar should have depreciated to the point where it required a boot-load to purchase the most rudimentary of American currency. But, no. The Yanks are still complaining that their money does not go far in our tacky tourist shops. And there's nothing to buy anyway, which is what they were also saying at the crest of the wave.
And how do we know that no one is really suffering? The government is still anywhere between 20 and 30 points ahead in the polls. The one sure sign that pain is not painful and that the economic bite is just a nip is when a prime minister retains his popularity.
Admittedly, John Key does a worthy impression of Peter Sellers' Chauncey Gardiner but the media are still in love with him. And that's for one simple reason: the guy keeps smiling. Every glass is not so much half full as on its way to an outstanding destiny. Our PM either has an inexhaustible supply of happy pills or hasn't quite understood the gravity of his situation.
Even getting bumped by the BBC from one of its interminably boring Copenhagen debates – even having his keynote climate speech addressed to a near empty grand hall composed of sleepy Nigerians and one earnest Argentinian – didn't faze him. He is still ridiculously happy being prime minister. It is his way.
And good on him. We should all be happier. We are not dead. Most of us have a job and a home. Even a car and a computer. We have family that still love us – in their own odd way – despite our manifest imperfections.
We can still have sex. Except if you are the parents of small children, at which point there exists the promise of sensual delight. One day. Just maybe not this year.
And there are still gloating triumphs that await. We can bask in the brilliance of others, be they the All Blacks or the All Whites.
And then there's a certain schadenfreude for those so inclined. Every liberal, for example, looks down their nose at the rest of New Zealand with the realisation that they are a superior intellect with a refined humanity. And then everyone else looks down at them. It's a virtuous circle.
But perhaps the greatest of gifts for being a New Zealander leading into 2010 is that we are not living anywhere else.
Global warming will not be a catastrophe for this country; it will only make us more desirable. An extra 2C would be brilliant for our economy, for tourism and for our summer holidays.
Of course, the same two degrees would be devastating for some parts of Australia, Africa and America but, hey, we don't live there.
Similarly, we don't live near serial polluters like India, Indonesia and China. We don't care if Vladimir Putin flexes his nuclear arm or if Barack Obama can't pass his medical insurance scheme and has the worst approval ratings of any new US president (see, told you! Fine words butter no parsnips). We're not fussed if the UK loses its sovereignty to the European Community or if South Africa robs and mugs every one of its World Cup tourists. We still live in the best country in the world. And we're still here.
Ya-boo-sucks to the pessimists. You lost again.
Sunday Star Times, December 27, 2009