Somehow the year has changed without me really taking it in. Last year and the year before that I was off work because of the baby (very very pregnant first and then ending my leave) in January. This year I’m plunging into work – doubling the hours I did before christmas and now doing more than full time (to make up for the long school holidays). It’s intense and stressful and I can’t really find the peace and quiet I’m used to feeling at this time of year. January is always bleak and uneventful in the very best sense, a stretch of days much like the way the sun shines flatly like a paper disc through the pale winter clouds; the year stretching and yawning before tentatively entering spring. Not this time. I can’t wait for spring. Or my winter holidays.

I feel slightly homesick, too. I wish I could do away with geographical distance. I hope we’ll be able to go North again this year. Fortunately, we have had a long cold spell and several days of snow. M loves it and I do, too. I can brag about my Northerner skills (expert snow shoveller and car scraper) and be quietly happy when the snow squeaks under my boots in the morning. I think I might start taking a thermos of coffee on my train commute in the mornings – I always have at least eight minutes to wait when I change trains and the platform is so cold, I can’t wear enough layers. We have several very small resolutions this year. One is to finish building the greenhouse. K has promised to get on board the gardening thing, and we’ve (well, I’ve) been talking about only spending our time growing stuff we can eat. He gave me John Seymour’s self sufficiency book for christmas and I was so happy about that. Another one which is mine is taking a packed lunch to work. The food in the cafeteria is not very good and expensive as well. So I bought a lunch box and carry raisins and rye bread and salami sandwiches in it. I feel very frugal. In the nicest way.