This year for the first time in over ten years I won't be hosting Christmas. Instead the family will all be going down to Bristol to spend Christmas Eve with my daughter, her husband and their two year old. This should mean that December is much less stressful than usual. I don't have to cook, or to remember to buy all the fresh produce, or seek out the hard to find stuff like roll mop herrings. There's no second guessing either about how much people will eat and what will prove popular this year as opposed to last year.
All in all, I can relax and get on with writing and editing. Except I can't. Somehow it these dark turn of the year days I have an almost unstoppable urge to bake and cook and decorate the house and go round the shops and visit friends, anything rather than sit in front of the screen and do some work.
Is it because the greyness makes you want to cosset yourself? If you can't pull the duvet over your head and sleep it out, is the next best thing to eat, drink and be merry, until the days lengthen and the sun shines again?