Oh January, January, January. I don’t know how to tell you this but I’m afraid you are the seasonal equivalent of that boy who went to everyone’s school; the one who smelt a little bit like wee, hadn’t heard of The Bangles or Bananarama but could quote the chemical elements of the periodic table in atomic number order. We admire the fact that you turn up every day but we’d really rather you didn’t. Here’s why:
In your supermarkets do you stock sausages wrapped in bacon, mulled wine or yule log? No you don’t. Do you sell Pimms, fresh ripe strawberries and meat that cries out to be barbequed? Nope. Toffee apples? Spring lamb? Rhubarb? Not at all. You sell soup and wholemeal pasta and Weightwatchers
tasteless crustless quiche.
In January can I wear my Christmas jumper to the office? A jumper festooned with kissing snowmen, a gingerbread man’s smiley face or Father Christmas’s feet sticking out of a chimney pot? No, I can not. I have to wear shirts that need to be ironed and shift dresses and pencil skirts. Let me tell you, it’s no mean feat to pull off a pencil skirt when you’ve been hiding your Christmas pudding belly underneath your ‘Team Rudolph’ sweater for four weeks.
What else can you offer, January? You don’t have skies alive with fireworks, apart from about the first 3 minutes of your arrival. No summer lanterns or multicoloured garden lights. No tealights aglow inside pumpkins. Even the fairy lights seem to stop twinkling after 1 January.
Poor self employed people get to spend January filling out their tax returns. Now, I’ve never completed one of these but I looked at one once and that was enough to require a lie down and a piece of cake to recover.
No opportunity for random kips in the middle of the day in January. During the summer, you can pop out at lunchtime, sit on the grass and eat your sweaty cheese sandwich before basking in the sunshine and enjoying a micro-snooze. At Christmas, if you’re not snoring into your snowball at least once then you haven’t been celebrating sufficiently. Unfortunately January you just don’t provide much chance for napping. Poor show.
January, you are the bane of the procrastinator’s life. I am a terrible procrastinator. Actually, is that gramatically correct? I’m very good at procrasinating. Does that make me a marvellous procrastinator? Anyway, I’m procrastinating. In January, I can’t say “I’ll start that in January” or “That’s a job for the new year” because the January interloper has already arrived.
Finally, if things couldn’t get any worse, January is National oatmeal month. A month when you are encouraged to focus on eating and learning more about the benefits of whole grains. This is combined with National prune breakfast month. I’m making an educated guess that January might also be National no laxatives required month…
I don’t really want to end my post on a bum note (Boom! boom! I’m also available for writing cracker jokes), so in the interests of fairness and equality to January I shall highlight some more cheerful events occuring this month for your delectation: 8 January – Bubble bath day, 14 January – National dress up your pet day, 16 January – National do nothing day, 21 January – National hugging day, 27 January – Chocolate cake day, 29 January – Freethinkers day.
I’m off to make a goat outfit for my cat in time for 14 January.. Behold: