No, seriously, why? There is such a sense of anti-climax about January. We dance, eat, drink and eat some more through December. Bank balances are fat because of early Christmas salaries. We throw money with abandon and wave our hands in the air, yes like we just don’t care, on New Years Eve and we shake our significantly widened booties.
And then comes January. Limp, weak-wristed, red blotchy-faced January peeks his head around the door, wearing his diamond-squared v neck cardigan and NHS glasses with his hair brushed by his mother, and meekly asks ‘Can I come in’. And before you can say ‘yes’, he has sat down, blowing his nose noisily and has started talking about how his toes are hurting from the cold. He emits a horrible gas that makes your eyes water with it’s hopeless despair.
January is a stenchy, blotchy old man who has replaced my shiny, muscly, sparkly-eyed December.
I am struggling to get through this month. This is because of many reasons – personal, work and finance related. I am even struggling to pretend I’m happy, which is normally the least you can do to avoid being labelled ‘miserable git’. It is depressing and hard. January, please go away.