It’s been the Year of Living in Lockdown. First the wretched bushfires smoked us out so badly we had to stay inside. In south-west Sydney, like much of the east coast, we lost our summer to a pack of pyromaniacs and overgrown national parks. Just when we thought it was safe to go outside again, some guy in Wuhan dipped his chopsticks into a bowl of bat soup – which might have been okay, except, in the way of these wet markets, the bat was still alive, doing backstroke in the broth.