January is quite a confusing time of year for me.
In the UK, the majority of holidays are concentrated between the months of October and December.
Although I no longer enjoy Halloween and Christmas as much as I used to when I was younger, I still like using the holidays as an excuse to consume a copious amount of food and drink before justifying the consequent damage to my waistline/ general health using the phrase ‘it’s *insert holiday name here* – I deserve to treat myself.’
In addition, the holidays provide winter with a kind of structure, helping to break it down into smaller, more manageable chunks.
There is always an occasion to prepare for and, up until the end of December, it is possible to propel myself through the long dark months of cold miserable weather on a tide of festive merriment.
However, eventually January comes around and I am suddenly released into the new year with nothing on the immediate horizon.
I never know what to do with myself without the incessant stream of holidays that have kept me occupied since late October.