‘January, sick and tired you’ve been hanging on me’. So sang Scottish pop warblers Pilot back in the 70s, and I know how they felt.

The festive season is over and done, and the long slide through the year’s most miserable month begins. It’s a procession of dismal, dreary, dank days, each one of which gives way to a long, dark, cold night. There’s pissing rain and sleet, bitter wind and gales, snow, fog and ice. There are freezing hands, feet, noses and ears. Don’t forget coughs, colds and flu. It’s a cornucopia of delights.

And yet there are those who’ll tell you how much they like this time of year; ‘oooh, I love to draw the curtains, make a big pot of tea, and snuggle down in front of the fire to watch Emmerdale and Corrie’.

As the wife would say, ‘get tae fuck’. I can feel a bad attack of SAD creeping over me like a suffocating blanket. If I was a bear, I’d be hibernating for six months. The winter sucks. That goes double for January.

Daily Express.

Nominated by : Ron Knee