By Eve Bell

I getI saw so many posts on social media about January. And none of them were very positive.

I used to feel the same when I was younger. That has slowly evolved as I have got older. Mainly since I have had kids. December used to be a month of searching for perfect party dresses and getting smashed a lot. Now is a month of trying to run the kids Christmas social calendar, searching for party clothes for them and hiding f@$*ing elves. Amongst 972 other things. And the excitement levels are through the roof.

So come to January, when Christmas has been packed away in the box for 11 months and when you can see the carpet again – this is when my time expands in front of my eyes. No to-do’s, unless they are mine. Time to read, time to catch up and time to just be. Time to be me. I get my slow pace back.

And it’s freezing outside, so no pressure to go outside. Blankets, tea and the heating on. It’s time to play with all the stockpiled toys and make crafts with the children. It’s a time for bonding.

My son got a telescope for Christmas this year, so dark nights have been a source of excitement, not despair. The dark nights mean candles. Lot of them.

Cosiness and all that hygge aside, it’s a fresh new year and I love to set my goals for the year. It’s the first chapter in a twelve chapter book and reading that first chapter in a new book is always a treat. Writing my own first chapter in my yearbook is something I look forward to each January.

It’s been a slow growing love affair but I am head over heels in love with January and I was sad to say goodbye. But I can see spring is spreading its wings and I welcome the mornings without searching for gloves, waking up with the sunrise and dropping a layer of clothing.

I am glad I live in a country with seasons. Each with their own individual backdrop to the year. Providing me with a backdrop to write my story on.