I didn't learn how to bake bread over lockdown. I tried maybe two pitiful loaves then gave up - flour and yeast became as rare as hens' teeth.
Nor did I knit, crochet, or make handmade pasta.
I tried colouring-in but gave it up pretty quickly because I couldn't find decent felts at the supermarket – the only place we could buy stationery.
The truth is, I didn't have time to master any new skills - what I was doing this time last year was sitting at the kitchen table I grew up with, contemplating this strange new way of existing.
Cables, extension cords, a keyboard and a mousepad replaced the placemats, cutlery, condiments and salt and pepper - meals were eaten off knees in the lounge.
Our offices were raided, making sure we had the equipment needed to set up at home.
It was a scary time and we needed to be in it for the long haul.
As journalists, we still had to work.
Our readers needed us now more than ever. People needed information they could understand and we took our roles seriously.
Like many other workers who were lucky enough to still be able to work from home, our meetings were conducted via Zoom and we were glued to the 1pm briefings from director general of health Ashley Bloomfield and Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern.
This was life now.
But even though the bubble existence felt isolated, it was comforting to know that every single one of us, across the country, was adjusting to our new lives.
Last week we caught up with truckie Ricky Bishop who, as an essential worker still needed to keep goods flowing, had to be isolated from his family.
"That was the hardest part for me. They would come to the fence line but we couldn't really see each other."
Others couldn't be there for births or deaths. Marriages and other life events were put on hold – heart-breaking.
Jobs were lost. As of February this year, 11,166 people were on the jobseeker benefit - up from 7722 in March last year.
The phrase "Covid casualties" was coined to describe people or businesses who, through no fault of their own, became statistics.
But through the scariness and uncertainty came little pinpoints of light.
We went on bear and Easter egg hunts, we marked Anzac Day with a dawn service at the bottoms of our driveways.
Families found fun and unique ways to spend time together and we got through it. Some of us got to know our neighbours better.
Communities banded together and made sure everyone was okay.
But I'm still buying my bread at the supermarket.