I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I do not like this time of year. Helluary, that composite term for what most of the world refers to as ‘January’ and ‘February’, is once again upon us and I’m not particularly happy about it. It’s cold. It’s dark. There is nothing on the visible horizon to look forward to. Did I mention that it’s cold?
Suffice to say I am not a huge fan of New Year’s Eve. As far as I’m concerned, welcoming the onset of January is like cheering the fact you’ve just caught a cold, or throwing a party to commemorate the anniversary of your dog being run over. I just don’t consider it appropriate to the circumstances. I’d rather go to bed.
As it happens, my New Year’s Eve was actually a very pleasant evening, but that’s because it was spent in the company of Mrs Sane and some friends where we ate good food and supped fine wines. I had a great time. But when it came to midnight and the obligatory clinking of glasses and cries of “Happy New Year!” I felt no more joy than the last time I got sent another one of those movie compatibility quizzes on Facebook: blank indifference. I get more excited loading up the dishwasher.
So yes, not to put too fine a point on it, this is the worst time of the year. Without question. No redeeming features.
That said, I am actually in very good spirits right now. I put that down to life being rather good. I’ve quit smoking – five weeks now – and am not exhibiting any desire to reverse that trend. I’m hitting the gym three or four times a week which is keeping the serotonin levels high. Arsenal are top of the league. Not even work is crushing my spirit and, considering the current problems in my industry, that is very surprising indeed. I have the love of a good woman who will become my wife this year, some great friends and, all things considered, very little to moan about.
But I still hate Helluary and I’m looking forward to spring.
Happy New Year. Bleurgh.