It’s the shortest day of the year. From tomorrow, we get a little bit more daylight every day for six months.

Thank fuck for that, because the last few months, getting here, have been a grinding drag. The seasonal affective disorder has hit harder this year. The longer nights seemed to drain my energy, and it genuinely felt like last week’s cold snap was making it hard to think.

There’s a reason we have a midwinter festival to celebrate the turning of the light. I shall partake, of course. And then I have to get my act together, pull out of the doldrums, and plan for a full year in 2023. Maybe I can even be organised enough to do something to mark the Summer Solstice.

It’s so much easier to dance naked in the woods on the longest day. If I start early enough, I might be able to build a wicker man for one of my action figures as well.