I have spent most of 2001 expecting to be woken up at any minute. Not that I’ve been lulled into a surreptitious slumber or been experimenting with mind-altering narcotics – well, no more than usual. But there have been so many moments during the year that I have had to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.

Ireland beating the mighty Dutch on an enchanted evening at Lansdowne Road. The Frames at Vicar St. Liverpool lifting three trophies in one season. BellX1 at the Music Centre. The rugby team putting one over on England and coming within a leprechaun’s eyelash of toppling the mighty all blacks. Hammel On Trial at Whelan’s. The UEFA Cup Final. Hearing Jim White’s life story from the man himself. Seeing David Kitt’s magical ‘Song From Hope Street’ video playing on the monitors at Tara Street Dart Station. Brian O’Driscoll’s inspirational try for the Lions in the first test Down Under. Spending Paddy’s Day in Berlin with Ash. Listening to Gemma Hayes’ two EPs for the first time. Turn at the Music Centre. Darren Homan’s fisted goal for the Dubs. Maurice Fitz’s equalising point. Melaton at the Isaac Butt. Shaking hands with the most sporting of Dutch supporters after that game. Singing ‘Wish You Were Here’ in a post-gig sing-song with Aslan in Tramore. Amélie. Having my photograph taken with Destiny’s Child (hey, I’m only human). Watching the Harry Potter movie and feeling like I was 12 again. The return to the stage of Dave Couse. Hearing Damien Rice sing ‘The Blowers’ Daughter’. Roy Keane’s godlike performances in green.

The albums of the year came courtesy of Jim White, The Frames, Ash, Bonny Prince Billy, David Kitt, Mark Mulcahy, Radiohead and Ronan O Snodaigh, amongst others. Singles-wise, Glen Hansard & Co.’s take on Will Oldham’s ‘New Partner’ was inspired, Outkast and The Strokes kicked ass and Creative Controle proved beyond doubt that Ireland can do hip-hop.

Live, BellX1 get better every time I see them, but they were just pipped for gig of the year by a 40-something bald New Yorker with metal plates in his head, who single-handedly turned a capacity Whelan’s audience into a singing, sweating, laughing, cheering slice of pure humanity with sloppy grins a go-go: Hammel On Trial come on down.

These things all paled into insignificance, however, when the events of September 11th rocked the world for all the wrong reasons and we all pinched ourselves in the hope that this was just a ghastly nightmare. At the time of writing, our scarred planet remains precariously balanced on the brink of violent turmoil. Here’s hoping that common decency and humanity prevails over fundamentalism in all its forms and that we all get to enjoy 2002 in peace and safety.