“Life is so bloody awful,” David Niven (yes, him again) once said, “that it’s the duty of all of us to cheer other people up.” And it is in that spirit, with apologies to Ian Dury, as 2008 slips largely unlamented into history, and in the full expectation that 2009 is going to be a whole lot worse, I offer a random list of reasons to be cheerful.

First things first: I’ve just had a massive fry-up. You know when characters in The Beano sit down to a slap-up feast in the final frame? They always used to, anyway, I’m sure they still do. Heaped plate? Groaning with food? Sausages sticking up vertically? That’s what my fry-up was like. And the canteen here is subsidised, which means they can bring in two fried eggs, three bacon, three sausage, beans, mushrooms and hash browns for £2.85, which is nigh-on unbloodybeatable if you ask me.

In the last recession, interest rates were about a thousand per cent. This time, they’re the lowest for 50-plus years and I’ve got a tracker mortgage! My wife says our monthly payment is less now than it was on our two-bedroomed flat in 1991. And the second bedroom was really poky, more of a large cupboard really. And the oil price has halved, and the sales started before Christmas, and nice young people will soon be able to buy houses again.

War Picture Library is reissuing its classic comics in book form at reasonable prices, “Achtung Englander”, “Gott im Himmel”, “Aaaargh”, etc, etc, etc. Hull City are hanging in there. Wood-burning stoves are back in a massive way. The long-delayed seventh series of 24 is about to start, patch me through to CTU, download the schematics to my PDA, etc, etc. There’s a new Jack Reacher thriller out in April. My son has settled in well at his secondary school. I’ve just bought a new jumper from Primark for seven quid. I did the nit comb this morning and didn’t have any head lice at all.

Cycling is cool. The internet is, on balance, fantastic. Helen Mirren looked fabulous in her bikini. Middle age doesn’t start till 60, old age till 85. My children’s grandparents are all alive. Two of mine died before I was born, one when I was three, the other when I was 18. Standards of personal hygiene have risen immeasurably. Racism, homophobia, misogyny and other general nastiness based on a so-called deviation from a so-called norm are all in retreat. “We’re not the same, we’re different in a good way,” says High School Musical, and, increasingly, people agree.

Polio has been eradicated in all but four countries. Viz magazine continues to prosper, and, contrary to popular belief, it is as funny as it used to be. Andy Murray’s looking good. So are Capello’s England.

Britain’s performance in the Olympics and the Paralympics was phenomenal. Usain Bolt is the coolest guy on the planet. But Barack Obama runs him close. Alaska still has Sarah Palin as its governor. Tank tops are back and I’ve got one, and my friend Joe can take the mickey all he wants.

Mamma Mia! was sensationally good fun. OJ’s gone down. Jonathan Ross’s mystifying popularity took a big (not big enough, though) hit. We still live in a country, just, where if celebrities behave really, really, really badly, they suffer the consequences. Sort of.

The Hadron Collider broke down, we still don’t know the meaning of life, the mystery lives on. My brother-in-law’s company produced the first wave-power-generated electricity to be connected into a national grid (Portugal’s). Sticking with electricity, Stuart reckons he’s finally got to the bottom of why the lights keep tripping in the garage. Stationery shops still provide more pleasure per pound spent than any other retail outlet. Cristiano Ronaldo looks miserable.

Of the 15 men who came to my stag do in 1998, I worked out just now, if I had another one next week, I’d still invite eight of them, maybe nine, and they’d all come.

I think. Some friends you keep, others you lose, and that’s OK, everything has its time, you accept it, sometimes welcome it. It took me a long while to gain this particular piece of wisdom, and now I’m passing it on for nowt. And what’s more, I’ve got a new flossing device, a sort of miniature bog-brush clipped into a metal tool about the size of a pencil, curved at either end, pleasingly knurled in the middle. I love a bit of knurling.

Saving the best till last, I’m about to go on holiday... and Dexter the dog is coming too! Gary and Fiona said they’d been invited to Suffolk for new year, problem was it’s a cat-dominated house, so poor old Dexter wasn’t on the ticket, what to do? Well, I said, practically panting with excitement, we could take him with us to Pembrokeshire, they love dogs there, I’ll walk him on the beach all day, and in the evenings he can sit at my feet in the bar, please please please say yes. And Gary and Fiona did say yes, so mine is already set to be a very, very happy new year, and I hope yours is too.

robert.crampton@thetimes.co.uk