Helen Moorhouse: Got winter blues? Fear not, a summer scorcher looms
WHY isn't there a catchy name for January 2? This year it could have been Lose-The-Will-To-Live-Wednesday. Next year we might look forward to Torture Thursday. Is there any word that's bad enough to describe that first day of official back-to-business of the new year – all memories of the cosy Christmas cocoon obliterated in seconds by the alarm clock about an hour after you've finally managed to drop off to sleep having spent the night in a tangle of sweat and dread?
Only a total masochist leaps out of bed to greet January 2 with enthusiasm. There is nothing bleaker than the prospect of the remainder of winter ahead with the distraction of Christmas gone. Dark when you leave in the morning, dark when you get home; broke and cold with the next bank holiday only slightly further away than payday.
Some snow might cheer us up for five minutes, until we have to abandon the car on the way home, although there's generally a shot on the news of a man slipping on his arse, which is better than nothing.