Osma in Prestwich…

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Thursday 13 April 2023

In the late 80’s, a university boyfriend who’d travelled to visit me, in my home town of Prestwich, insisted on a pilgrimage to the house of Mark E Smith, sadly now late but ever irascible frontman of the Fall. Two weeks ago, another uni friend calls to say that we must ‘do lunch‘ at a great Prestwich restaurant that is featuring on The Great British Menu. Yes, all Prestwich, my childhood stomping ground, … who knew?

Is there no end to the eclectic mix of fame and fortune in this small Mancunian suburb? (Prestwich also boasts, to name but a few: Victoria Wood, Elkie Brookes, Arlene Phillips, novellist Howard Jacobson and Godley and Creme!) Well, clearly not; indeed I could be forgiven for feeling quite the serial underachiever as a local of these parts! But enough of my life reflections, what of the latest star on the Prestwich podium?

Requests from old uni pals aside, we have already been once, but when I frantically text my fellow diner with the exciting news that chef Danielle Heron is indeed now on the TV, we decide that we have to go again. So let me tell you our latest trip to Osma…

What can I say but… an outstanding evening!

Our waiter is a delight. Knowledgeable, attentive and fun. He also gets full marks for navigating the hilarious confusion my friend causes when mistaking the wine prices for the alcohol percentage. (Oh yes, it will be a while before I let this one drop!) And then comes the food. We share five small plates and each is sensational, I mean I write my fanciful adjectives now, but at the time after one dish I just have to tell our spirited server,

“That was bloomin’ fantastic!”

Influenced by the chef’s time in Oslo, the plates have a definite ‘Scandi-feel’; fresh and light but utterly full of flavour. In short, each serving appears crafted to make your taste buds sing. It also looks beautiful. What’s not to love?

The atmosphere is also friendly and relaxed. It is one of those evenings when 7pm becomes 10pm before you’ve even noticed. We are having such an amazing time, that we also share a desert and dawdle over coffee.

So would I recommend? I definitely would. In fact, I cannot wait until my other uni friend visits is the Summer to try out the ‘Lunch Menu’. Whilst the evening is all about , “small sharing plates … accompanied by wines and cocktail” the midday menu promises

“open Scandinavian sandwiches and hearty salads – using seasonal ingredients from local British farms and producers – alongside fresh juices and great coffee.”

Sounds delicious!

So for this evening a fond farewell to Osma, a definite reason to feel even prouder than ever to come from Prestwich, but be assured, I shall be back … it might even become a compulsion with me …

Easter by the sea …

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Saturday 8 April 2023

Easter Saturday dawns and we hop into the car for our first family holiday since Gran Canaria in 2019. Llyn Peninsula here we come…

It may only be for a long weekend and it may be to a part of the world we are all very familiar with, as my family has had a caravan in this lovely corner of North Wales for close to 5 decades. Nonetheless, there is just no beating a family trip.

With my offspring now marching confidently into adulthood, this getaway is much about nostalgia and and the delight of rediscovering old routines. We breakfast, on the road, at our favourite faithful diner. Upon arrival we dig out the flipflops and sliders and head straight for the beach; beautiful Blackrock Sands and 2 miles of sandy coast.

The weather is glorious and there is much laughter and fun. Moreover, strolling along the beach and paddling in the sea with ice-creams feels a millions miles away from the urban sprawl of Greater Manchester we left only hours earlier.

We don’t escape the Mancunians entirely however as, to revive our legs after the walk, Small boy and I find ourselves watching a Manchester City (City, I know and to make matters worse they are spectacular) match at the rowdy caravan club with several bottles of much needed Peroni. Meanwhile, the girls have re-united with some old ‘caravan friends‘ and are catching up with drinks in a quieter part of the complex.

A trip to the fish and chip shop sorts out tea and after a little more beer and a hilarious rummage through the old caravan board games, it is time to turn in… and full of sea air and a little bit of alcohol we sleep like logs.

Next day, with our caravan friends we set out on a walk over the beach and across the hilltops to Porthmadog, the nearest town for lunch. It is a fabulously sunny day once more and the scenery is stunning. It is also quite a trek and legs are weary and faces wear the blush of exercise, as well as the first spring sun, as we toil back, feeling pretty proud of ourselves.

We round off our Easter weekender with a drive to Llandudno, which is actually a new destination for us all, before heading home on the M56 once more.

What a terrific few days away. I realise I’ve missed family holidays. There really is nothing quite like them for building bonds and memories. I’ll have to accept that, for my young adults, 3 days away with their mum is probably the limit now so …. here’s to the next mini-vacation…

Cambridge

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Wednesday 29 March 2023

At 7am this morning, I wave Small boy off on a two-day course at Cambridge University. He is actually staying overnight in the college I went to, (back in the ancient history of the 1980s) so permission to feel a little bit emotional …

Or is it more that I feel quite a lot of envy. University memories – gosh such happy times! It was part of a time in my life when every year just seemed to get better and better. The work was tough; intense, challenging and delivered at pace that was not for the fainthearted. In tandem though, the living, the lovely friends, the support and the vibrancy was also incredible. Would I love to go back and do it all again? In a breath! But the years have rolled on, and it it no longer my time to dream of higher education, freedom and the first thrill of true independence. No, now it is the turn of my youngest child.

“Take pictures!” I call out, as he hops into the car that is taking him ‘down south‘.

And he does; photos of colleges, chapels and a video of his room, which really makes me smile because I know he is sending the pictures, not because he is in awe of the ancient splendour (my son is an irreverent left-wing rebel ) but rather that he knows it will make me happy. And right there, in that very moment, any envy disappears and I just feel emotional again, Though this time, not with nostalgia for my undergraduate past nor for the re-tread of family footsteps, but because it simply warms my heart to be reminded just how kind my lovely boy is.

He also send a triumphant 12:30 am text announcing that his team have ‘won‘ the quiz that the organisers have put on as an evening social event.

By contrast, my evening is some rushed and uninspiring food after a full and frantic day topped off by a parental consultation event that stretches the working hours to 8pm.

By the end of the next working day, he is home and I can see the change. Is my son, as I once was, now picturing himself amidst the dreaming spires, following in the footsteps of Newton and Turing ? In all honesty, I don’t think he is. The trip has, nonetheless, fired up his enthusiasm for Higher Education. His passion for Chemistry lives on, (“but definitely not Chemical Engineering mum!”) and his previous lethargy has been replaced by a decently researched list of the best establishments for his courses of choice. He is planning Open Days and trips to City Universities across the land.

He does also find time to tell me that everyone thought that my old College was the best one by far …

Small moments to savour on the parenthood journey …

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Sunday 19 March 2023

Mother’s day 2023, my card tells me that I ‘deserve to have the best day!‘ … and I do!

Why so great? Well for one, my eldest child pops home for the weekend. But for two, she takes me out for lunch! Yes, let me say that one again, very slowly; she takes me out. She books the table. She invites the guests. She organises the transport. She evens pays. I don’t have to do anything! Great restaurant, great company; it’s a treat I shall cherish.

Could this be, I ponder, the moment when I pass on the baton of ‘chief organiser and sorter-outer’ to the next generation? Probably not, but for today at least it is amazing, because I can tell you this. The child-rearing journey is one relentless marathon. But, those of you with of small infants, do not despair! Just when you think you cannot take anymore and have hit your parental wall, take heart. Around every corner, come small life-saving moments to savour. After two decades of muddling through motherhood, here are mine

My first game changer is cow’s milk, which arrives at the age of 12 months. It is ‘farewell’ to battling with breastfeeding and a grateful ‘goodbye’ to prepping the cursed formula bottles each evening; sterilising, scooping, measuring and mixing through eyes so weary they are propped open with matchsticks. The calendar shows that 1 year and passed and overnight, you are simply allowed to open the fridge and pour some milk into a beaker. Goodness gracious, it feels like a wondrous miracle!

Next for me; the end of nappies. I’m not going to lie, the potty training months are a tense time, but oh so worth it! As your toddler finally masters the art of using the loo, it is off to the tip for that dreadful device know as the ‘changing bag’! Once again, you step out with a swing in your step, no longer weighed down with nappies and wipes and bags and changes of clothes and ….oh, it is glorious. How did you not appreciate this simple pleasure before? And, from my viewpoint, even better is to come.

Probably one of my favourite moments of all. You feed and drag your child up to the magical mark of 135 cm and the car seat can go! It’s utterly liberating. One day, your life is a drudge of lifting and securing offspring’s arms and legs into complex arrays of straps and fasteners. The next you are just breezily shouting ‘time to go kids!‘, opening the car door and watching them climb in and sort themselves out. On the first few occasions, you’ll just stand there open mouthed with your car keys thinking, ‘Is that it, can I just set off?’ And ‘Hallelujah’ yes you can! A magnificent moment indeed.

High school also occurs around this time, bringing with it a surge in offspring independence. This one is a little double edged, but I shall start with the positives. Let’s take a moment to appreciate the humble bus pass. Your children now get themselves to school. It is beyond fantastic. I’m a working mum and as I waved my youngest child off on the 472 in his new school blazer, my working life was about to transform. No longer tied to breakfast club opening times and after school club hours, I could just set off when it suited me. No longer shouting at kids to ‘get through the bathroom’, ‘get dressed’ and ‘get in the car‘, I could drive calmly to and from school thinking about the day ahead. I was consistently on time for the management meeting for the first time in 7 years, no longer stressed out about late pick-up fees, if I was caught in traffic at the end of the day. I thanked my lucky stars, felt incredulous at how much easier life seemed to be once more and marvelled at how many more hours there were in each day.

As a cautionary note however, I did warn that the teenage years also bring their disadvantages in terms of your blossoming freedoms, and here they are. As your children advance through school and sixth-form, their social lives also take off, so, unless you have the pockets to keep your local Uber company in business, do be prepared for your duties as late night taxi service! I am currently in the midst of this one. Small boy and his considerable circle of friends are a very sociable lot and most weeks bring an enviable offering of outings, parties and general merrymaking for them. For me, alas, it means too many evening when the cherished glass of red has to be replaced by a consolation cup of tea. I suppose eventually they’ll all learn to drive and get cars!

Looking back, I cannot actually believe I made it to this stage, particularly as I did most of it on my own. Well, to be fair that’s not quite true, for 7 years I did have my ‘pretty nice guy’ to keep me sane! He may never have helped out much with the kids but he did remind me that parenting was not my only role in life. You’ll find, young mothers in particular, that people stop asking ‘how are you?’ and replace it with ‘how are the kids?’. It’s okay to a point but you can start to feel a bit invisible so I am very thankful that I did have an adult companion for many great adventures and crazy capers, during the toughest of the child-raising years! It definitely stopped me going under.

So, add a few dates nights into your survival notes too! But I’m now dreaming of the day when all my trio can drive me around for a change so I’ll end my post there. I’m off to sign Small boy up for his provisional license…

Those little pink lines …

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Saturday 25 February 2022

As it turns out, being ‘gruff and throaty’ was not, in fact, a credible nod to my ‘rock n’ roll’ lifestyle. Towards the end of the week, I test positive for covid-19…

Urghh! My throat and chest are pretty grim for most of the week and a raspy Joe Cocker teaching voice eventually packs up completely around noon on Friday, which is why someone hands me a (long forgotten) box of tests. I endure the cursed tonsil ticklers and a bit of nostril prodding and, within a minute, am staring at two distinctive pink lines. Bugger …

Sore larynx aside, I feel do okay which is a relief, I mean not sparkling but not too bad. I also know that isolation is no longer a legal requirement. Nonetheless, I have done the test and decide I’d feel pretty rubbish to be out and about in public knowing that I posed an infection threat. So I decide to cancel all weekend plans and … just lie low.

To my surprise, I really enjoy a rare day of idling and nothingness. No running, no shopping, no cleaning the bathroom, no tram rides into town. No, no no. I don’t even bother to get dressed! I do a bit of cooking but for most of the day I set absolutely no goals. Small boy brings me cups of tea, a cushion for my feet and the remote control and I re-watch Derry Girls, catch-up with Jane Eyre, and, well there’s no less cliched way to say it, sit still and let my crowded head get back into gear.

Apparently, there is also scientific proof, in a plethora of studies, that ‘doing nothing‘ is good for us. In many reports, such as Eating well’s, ‘The Legit Mental Health Benefits of Doing Nothing, According to Science‘ the definition of ‘doing nothing‘ is far more exacting than mine. There is no, smartphone, computer or TV Screen, even book reading it out! And what most studies find is that people tend to enjoy time to just sit and allow their thoughts to wander much more than they initially thought. This and other research also hints to additional gains such as, less stress, increased energy, enhanced creativity and improved abilities to resolve problems.

I think that my foggy brain is not fully in these lofty realms today. But, what I find I do enjoy, on my lazy Saturday, is just the time and space to reset and recharge. It is a day for being kind to myself and allowing a few hours to rest, relax and … breathe. And that feels luxurious.

So, I look forward to my voice returning and certainly wouldn’t wish corona virus on anyone, but I would recommend a day, or even a half hour, of putting your feet up, forgetting the to-do list and just allowing yourself to do nothing at all for a while…

You can’t do nothing all the time – it’d get pretty boring, pretty quickly. But carving out small windows where you can just sit down … and let yourself be is good for you, good for your brain … No more feeling guilty for a weekend spent doing nothing – it’s vital.

Out on a school night…

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Thursday 23 February 2023

… well it is my Birthday!

Yes, February is quite a month!

After Small boy’s party and a family flit to the North East for my eldest’s 21st , it is time for my birthday celebrations. My friend and I notice that Suzanne Vega is playing in town. We both had the album. We both know all the words. We both decide to go!

So what if it’s a work day! I leap into my car after work, pelt down the motorway to a handy tram stop and am in the city centre collecting the tickets by 6:30 pm. My friend treats me to pre-concert pizza … and calamari… and fries… and beer. It’s a little bit hasty, in fact we do have to run through the street, clutching a carboard tray, still dipping our hot crispy fries into mayonnaise. But we do make it on time!

The tickets; gosh they are far back and so, “shhh don’t tell but” after a (rather underwhelming) support art, we grab an interval drink and then sneak forward about 10 rows into a better pair of spare seats and wait …for Suzanne.

Oh, my word, she is amazing. Vega, a tiny slim figure, with her acoustic guitar is joined on stage by David Bowie’s guitarist Gerry Leonard, for a nostalgic trip through four decades of music. The sound, the music and the voice are just incredible. Its is like listening to the CD or vinyl again but with an extra richness and depth, that maybe 30 years of experience brings. She tells the audience the story behind some of the songs and then adds in the emotion as she performs them. And she is super cool. One hour in and and lean across to my companion to say,

“I’d like to be Suzanne…”

My friend, who has know me since I was 17, smiles kindly and pats my arm sympathetically before he whispers back.

“Look, she is from New York…I think they are just born sassy there…”

Ha ha ha! So, I guess I’m never going to be Suzanne Vega but I can,and do, sing the tunes all the way home, whereupon I treat myself to an overlarge whisky before collapsing into bed.

Next morning, I awake very gruff and throaty. I think it is going to be a long, long day … but absolutely worth it …

“And I finish up my coffee
And it’s time to catch the train…“

Half term …

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Saturday 18 February 2023

I do like a half term! A little bit like a the starter in a three course meal, or the John Lewis advert before a lengthy Christmas movie, it is the small perfectly formed feature of the school holiday calendar. Too short for procrastination and wasting time, there’s nothing for it but to have some great days out… even if all of mine seem to involve red wine!

Rest assured; I hold off on the Merlot until at least midday!

The days dawn with Duolingo! Despite much searching, I have admitted defeat in my quest to find a face to face German class and have instead downloaded the Duolingo app. Confess, I must, to a rapid descent into obsession… by day three, I am number two on the leader board. The top spot, well its only a matter of time…

My second morning quest; being a super-mum. Yes, Small boy and I have different half terms, and so I set my alarm, for 7:30 am each morning (still a luxurious lie-in) and run him to college. For me, this is actually quite a treat. When my trio were little, I did do some playground parent duties but ex-hub left when all three were under 8 and ever since, I’ve been fully-working, frantic mum, hurling primary-age kids into pre-school clubs, before tearing up the motorway to work and entrusting in the fate of their school travel to TfGM from the moment they hit high school. So this week, a relaxed start for us both, (some mornings we even manage breakfast) followed by a convivial chat on the 20 minute journey to lesson 1, makes us smile.

As the clock chimes noon however, it is often time for me to head out and catch-up with my fabulous friends. I do afternoon tea, in the middle of Manchester with a bottle of Montepulciano and whisky chasers. I do a tapas lunch with large glasses of Merlot and so much laughter that the waitress comes over to check that we are ok and to share the joke. And finally, oh finally I discover the newest delights of Oxford Road, when I meet one of my friends after work.

Firstly, there’s his snazzy new offices, amidst the eateries and mini outdoor ‘symphony’ space of Circle Square, after which we wander to Hatch, a lively set of bars and food stalls unashamedly housed below the concrete bridges and flyovers of the 20th century road system. We enjoy some lovely ‘natural wine’ and catch-up on on January news, before heading to astonishing Kimpton Tower Hotel.

Wow – the place is incredible. Housed in a magnificent terracotta Grade II–listed building, Kimpton Clocktower has a history that dates back to 1890, when the building first opened as The Refuge Assurance Company headquarters. Today, it’s a stylish hotel, with a killer bar. It gives me such ‘Raffles Hotel’ vibes that I reach for the cocktail menu and find, not a Singapore, but a ‘Salford Sling’. Utterly delicious and the Victorian architecture is so amazing that some small detail takes my attention every 5 minutes. I will definitely be back.

Regrettably, half term is now drawing to a close, so I shall also soon be back to work and the dreaded 6am wake-up call. Am I looking forward to that? I really cannot say that I am. Nonetheless, whilst there is still nothing to rival the sparkle and magic of my Christmas holiday, this was a really nice half-term and and a chance to remember that there is far more to life than ‘eat, sleep work, repeat’…

Railways and canals …

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Sunday 12 February 2023

On a couple of winter walks, I find that the canals and railways of yesteryear still provide fantastic places for us to use in 2023.

These are our waters.
The boater, navigating
veins that have pumped
through this network
for a quarter of a century,
veins that fed an industrial revolution

Roy McFarlane

Canals, from the 18th century, the transport backbone of Britain’s flourishing industrial economy, have an enthusiastic following. For some, they are a living monument to science and technology and the engineers who overcame geographical obstacles using bridges, tunnels, and locks. For others, an equally evocative social history as, from the mid 1800s boatmen’s families chose to live on their narrow boats and the canals became a way of life. And for many, just a lovely place to wander.

Who doesn’t remember the iconic scenes of Birmingham’s canals in Peaky Blinders? Well the north west has them too. (In fact, some of the Peaky canal scenes were actually filmed in Manchester!) But I digress, Let me tell you of a recent walk along the Bridgewater canal.

This stretch of water represents the first entirely artificial canal in Britain, its construction mainly financed by Francis Egerton, Duke of Bridgewater, to haul coal from his mines to the growing industrial city of Manchester. And today, what makes it such a special walk is that sense of history. Yes, drop down onto the towpath and, whilst there has been some regeneration to promote the area as a leisure destination for walkers and cyclists, it is the same canal. The same meandering waterway that boats travelled as early as the 1700s.

It is peaceful and still today and, whilst it may stretch10km in length (30 km after its extension to Liverpool in 1776), evokes a sense of never-ending calmness. Moving at the pace of nature but moving with purpose nonetheless. For canals can still take us on a journey; the landscape changing from residential areas to beautiful woodland and country side as they link towns and cities. Today – that’s a cafe in Boothstown for a welcome coffee, before wending our way back via the network of bridges, pathways and tunnels.

Another day another walk, and nestled in the city centre, near Piccadilly station, we discover Depot Mayfield, a multi-use space for arts, music, industry and culture built on the site of Manchester’s historic former railway station. It is quirky, creative and very cool!

And so to the railways…

These are our waters.
The railway man saw them as a threat
and wedded together steel and waters,
only later to leave them tired and disused
while they told their grand stories of a new age
and left the waters in the shadows.

The age of steam and the rise of the railways was indeed to take over from the canals. Very much like their watery predecessors, the tracks and stations of our rail network, continue to showcase groundbreaking technology and the many impressive structures that transformed Victorian Britain.

In my fanciful heart however, rail travel is also synonymous with adventure and freedom, the chance to ‘see the world’, and expand horizons. Trains took the ‘Railway Children‘ to their new life and and formed the back drop to David Lean’s classic romance ‘A Brief Encounter‘. The Flying Scotsman, the celebrity of the LNER line, was to reduce journey times between London and Scotland to 8 hours and become a household name. Like many, I strapped a rucksack onto my back in the mid 80s and , clutching a railcard, set out to travel Europe and interrailing trips remain rites of independence passage for young people. today And … well let’s stop before I find myself talking about Michael Portillo!

Instead, I’ll return to Depot Mayfield. Opened in 1910, Mayfield was constructed as a four-platform relief station adjacent to Piccadilly to alleviate overcrowding. In 1960, the station was closed to passengers and, in 1986, it was permanently closed to all services and gained its ‘depot’ title from its having use as a Royal Mail parcels depot. Move forward to today and the outside area has be regenerated with places to sit, to muse and to play. It is all designed to reflect the industrial heritage of the site and is just a terrific space for the city. On our visit, the indoor area is closed but houses many vibrant and popular new eateries and cultural venues. Perfect for my home town; modern forward looking, whilst a celebration of our proud tradition as an industrial heartland.

So, I know I am biased, but how amazing are our industrial cities? The symbiosis of the new, the vibrant modern culture with a rich and dynamic history. There is always something new to find. Greats of the Industrial Revolution become great places to explore today, you just sometimes need to take the time to look with a fresh pair of eyes …

Birthday weekend…

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Thursday 8 February 2023

We’ve had some good double birthday celebrations over the years, but, as I wheel out an impressively full blue bin (glass and tins in these parts) for tomorrow’s collection, I have to admit that this year’s will go down as one of the best…

Step forward Small boy for birthday number one. My son, gallivanting swiftly through his teenage years, has a very large circle of very sociable friends. A few weeks ago, he brings me a cup of tea (ever a suspicious sign) as a softener for this request,

“Mum…I was wondering if I could have a party this year?’

Halfway between me thinking about it, and struggling to manage an overwhelming workload for my boss, I appear to have agreed. I warn my lovely neighbours, most of whom just laugh and say ‘where’s my invite?’ I stock up on snacks and beer. And, come party night, I head out for a meal, with one last fond look at my new cream sofa, leaving a nervous Small boy hopping about the empty hallway, wondering when his first guests might arrive.

I am back by 11, and the house is pulsating. I hear the party before I see it. And when I do open the door there are people … everywhere. In every room, on the stairs, in the garden. And…it is bloomin’ fantastic! Tipsy teens, I’ve known for years, greet me with affection and the intense conversations and rantings that only alcohol can inspire. There’s music and dancing, there’s singing, there’s even ‘beer pong’.

I party along for a while then, grab a couple of Peroni’s and head upstairs to locate my middle child, home from uni land for her siblings’ birthday celebrations. We sink our beers as she giggles through the party gossip. We pop down again to serve pizza and cake and listen to a raucous chorus of ‘Happy Birthday‘ as the clock strikes midnight and Small boy officially becomes ‘Birthday boy’ and thereafter, leave them to it. Most guests are gone by 1:30 am and I am asleep by 2.

The next day is a slow one for us all, but, on the plus side, I awake to find that the house had been tidied and so, after putting the hoover through its paces and vigorously mopping a very sticky kitchen floor, we are quickly back to normal. Which is just as well because a second birthday is now only 24 hours away.

Yes, my lovely eldest child, on hospital placement in Teesside, turns 21.

In honour of this landmark occasion, I leave work on time (for once), call in at home to collect Prom dress daughter, stop at the sixth-form college to pick up Small boy and then set the satnav for the North-East. We are there by 6:30 for present opening and then head out for a fantastic family meal at a local restaurant. It is huge fun; great food, great conversation and as for the shenanigans with our ‘affogato al cafe’, well my stomach still aches from the laughter.

All too soon, it is home time and its is a much quieter trip back along the A1 and M62.

Exhausting? Yes! Worth it… absolutely. Brilliant birthdays this year…

Blue January …

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January 21 2023

Gosh; is anyone else struggling with January? Setting off for work at 7am and returning around 6pm, I feel as if I live in darkness at the moment. So this morning’s run, in the glorious, snowy sunshine is a real pick-me-up. But, aside from ‘living for the weekend‘, if only to see daylight, are there any other tips for getting through the dreary 31 days that start each year…

Much is written about poor old January. An entry entitled ‘Why is January depressing?‘ for the Foundations wellness center by Justin Baksh on 2 January 2022, claims that,

It is often said that January – dubbed “the Monday of months” – is the most depressing month of the year.

And many of us would resonate with a catalogue of reasons why: end of the holiday season, dismal weather and mounting debt. It is, I read, scientifically proven that shorter daylight hours and lack of sunlight do lead to SAD (seasonal affective disorder) which can play havoc with our body clocks and reduce energy and motivation. Possibly this is why the cheery resolutions of New Year’s Day can so often often wither away as we descend into sluggish despondency?

Psychologist Cliff Arnall, even hit the headlines in 2004 with a proposed formula for low mood! I think he has since admitted that this was a partial publicity stunt and a mathematics model for mood feels unlikely, nonetheless, you cannot argue with the list of variables that definitely do contribute to the misery of our much-maligned opening month of the year.

So what can we do about it?

Canadian blogger ‘Mommy Kat and Kids‘ promotes self -care and ‘sit and soak‘ is her number one tip. Kat espouses the merits of a candle-lit bath and I can vouch for this one in a slightly different guise as, after months of inactivity, I fire up the hot tub on Friday night and have a fantastic evening in there with a friend.

The joy of a hot tub, which is not often mentioned, is that it is wonderful way to enjoy the great British outdoors, because as you sink into the deliciously depths of the steamy water, you are actually warm and can just relish the peace and stillness of beautiful winter’s evening. It is great for conversation, relaxation, shaking off the working week and having fun!

So folks; if you’ve a hot tub; hop in. Or get running those bathtubs and basking in bubbles with candles, music … and escape the wintry chills!

Cygnet Health Care have ‘keep fit and stay active‘ as tip number three. I must concur with this one too; I am loving my January running. I do actually like to exercise in the cold, running on a hot day is my nemesis and, as the icing on the cake, I got blue tooth earphones for Christmas so I am also pounding the pavements to the beat of my favourite rousing anthems! For an hour each Saturday, it has become my definition of ‘happy’.

Few would argue with the benefits of bring active eorher. So when we’re lucky enough to see a glimmer or sunlight, pull on the trainers or enjoy the beauty of a snowy walk. In grimmer weather, and let’s face it, we’ve had a lot, blogger Kat recommends digging out your yoga mats. Worth a try… again if only to warm up! .. it’s all about the weekend! Are the delights of Friday nights and the rare glimpses of daylight that Saturday and Sunday bring, enough to sustain me through the relentless, gloomy grind of the working week? I fear not. And I’ve yet to mention the desperate need for a pay day! Whose idea was it to put two 31 day months back to back at the most expensive time of the year? Not a parent I’ll wager. Sheer insanity!

On the bright side… we are over half way through! Nonetheless, please hurry up February…