Today is Blue Monday – the day widely considered to be the saddest day of the year. This has made it so far into the public consciousness that school non-uniform days are scheduled, with children encouraged to pay a pound to dress in their own colourful clothes, to chase the blues away. The idea is that the financial fallout of Christmas coincides with cold weather and short, dark days to make the third Monday in January a thoroughly depressing one.
When I came to write this piece, I initially confused Blue Monday with National Sickie Day (the first Monday in February – apparently the day people are most likely to call in sick to work) but they are two different things. It will surprise absolutely nobody to discover that the concept of Blue Monday was launched by a travel company, trying to capitalise on the misery of the day to encourage folk to book a holiday and look forward to happier times, in warmer climes.
I think it’s also no surprise that Blue Monday coincides with the post-resolution slump, after the initial zeal of setting those pesky promises to ourselves (see earlier post, On resolutions). Despite the intentional lack of resolutions in my own life, I find myself not immune from the urge to browse holidays and have something to put on that oh-so-empty calendar!
For various reasons – a long waited extension and all the associated costs, increased cost of living, blah blah (aren’t we all just so sick of everything costing so much?) – a holiday may be a bridge too far this year. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining – we are very lucky and privileged. But the looking and planning is something I will miss. I don’t say that because it is something I particularly enjoy, however, in our household, the booking of holidays falls to me. My partner invariably has to be strong-armed into holidays: ‘Can we afford it?’, ‘Not sure I can get time off!’ My answer – can we afford not to? We only have one life and the kids only have one childhood!
Every time we’ve had a holiday it’s because I have instigated it. I have strong feelings about unnecessary air travel, so over the years our holidays have tended towards the relatively local – mainly UK based summer breaks, alternating with European ski destinations, usually via train. Last Summer we decided to have a stay-cation (a genuine stay-at-home and do days out stay-cation) for two weeks in July. Our little corner of southeast Kent tends to have its own sunny microclimate…but sadly not in 2023. It rained the entire time, whilst Scotland and the West of Ireland had a heatwave! We did have some nice days out, despite the weather. But there is something different about going away, even if, like during Covid, it was four of us in a hut in neighbouring East Sussex for a couple of nights.
With no holiday on the horizon, I find I’m missing the ritual of browsing - even that slightly nauseating feeling of pressing the Book button and committing all that money, in case I’ve done something wrong. And I have done things wrong…booked a taxi for our return Eurostar for the wrong day, for example. Easy mistake to make, but hard to correct at 6am on a snowy Saturday changeover day!
Today in particular I’m missing the anticipation – even that uneasy, nauseating feeling – exciting because it would lead to blocking out that week (or ten days if we’re feeling very flush) on the calendar. However, we do have other things to look forward to – the culmination of the long-delayed plans for our house, for example. I’m really looking forward to that being done and when it is I probably won’t want to go away, but dance around the extension like Oliver in Saltburn instead.
Halfway to ninety 
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