I appreciate that this isn't an earth-shattering insight, but going back to work in January really is a sharp kick in the nuts.
On Tuesday the alarm jolted me awake and, in the first few seconds of confusion, my brain instantly filled to the brim with a to-do list of things I should have to-done way back in the 2010 stone age. I reeled out of the flat while it was still dark and arrived at my desk in a state of confusion and near-tearful denial that the holiday was over. All around me people rubbed their eyes and goggled at their inboxes as the last few vapours of festive contentment were sucked into the air-conditioning. I solemnly placed my two Christmas cards into the recycling bin and turned off my out-of-office message.
So it's now 2011. In May I turn 30 and this blog will descend into even more morbid ravings than usual. I might get married at some point, although progress has not advanced beyond the decision to include a blender on the wedding list. Everything else, from the religious denomination of the ceremony onwards, is up for grabs.
At least there will also be a few internationally significant significant anniversaries to look forward to. 400 years since the King James Bible was published. 100 years since the Titanic sank. 2 years since this blog began - brace yourself for the commemorative mugs and tea towels. So it isn't all bad, and I'm trying to get as many treats in the diary as possible to drag me through the January murk. Pulp at Hyde Park in the summer is simply too exciting to get my head around yet, but in the meantime I've just bought tickets to see The Streets in March. I'm going in with fairly low expectations but it should be ok. After all, they might play this one:
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