January and February just have to be the worst two months of the year. Although for me, winter effectively begins on 1st September, the worst part of it is when Christmas and the New Year are behind us. At least Christmas gives us something with which to light the gloom, even if the light is artificial, I find the first two months of the year a real struggle. If I could hibernate through to March, I’d gladly do it.
I don’t even know if my dislike of January and February has anything to do with my mental ill health. I always assumed it was a mental health thing – SAD, it’s called – but I talk with other folk who don’t appear to have any kind of ‘issues’ who still hate January and February.
I hate – and I mean, hate – everything about these two months. The ongoing darkness, the near certainty that the worst part of the winter could turn up any day, the disruption to real life when the weather goes to rat shit – everything seems worse in winter. I never feel quite so terrible in, say, June, when I’m crawling up the M5, but when it happens on a grim January day, under battleship grey skies, it seems that much worse.
The good news is that the last day of winter features for me a date with the Blue Oyster Cult and the first day of spring’s highlight is a night with Massive Attack. The change from one month to another means everything to me and I can’t wait.
