January, I won’t beat around the bush. You sucked. You were the epitome of miserableness, you lived up to expectation and you were LONG.
It must be tough, having to follow on from Christmas. All that festivity, happiness, booze and parties. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.
I know you get a hard rap, January, but unfortunately, I kind of feel like you deserve it. The days were dark and cold, the evenings were short, you sent upset into my professional life and you welcomed Trump as the new President of the United States. All in all, it didn’t look good for you.
I often wonder what it is about you, January, that makes you the most unpopular month of the year. To some, you herald a fresh start, a chance to detox and the beginning of a new chapter. And I wish I could have got on board that train this year.
It started so well. The first day was spent nicely hungover with my best friends, walking in the rain through the Sussex countryside, before returning home to movie marathons on the sofa with Toby. Even the second day was good, although I can’t remember where I was or what I did. I just know it was good.
I’m not trying to be a drama queen: but January, you sucked a lot of life out of me. You threw obstacles in my path, tested my patience, didn’t give the best first impression. But hey, I’ll try not to take it personally.
Most years, I’m not adverse to the darker nights and shorter days. I find it the perfect excuse to curl up and get cosy. But for some reason, this year, I’ve struggled. Struggled with the lack of daylight and the ghastly weather and the feeling that Spring and daffodils are so very far away. I’m sorry January.
Here’s to onwards and upwards; don’t take it personally January, I’m just pleased to have said goodbye. Maybe your friend February will be a bit kinder to me.