Tales of a City Girl

January: crap or cracking?

On the first Monday back at work, that might seem like a stupid question. And to make my day worse, I walked 25 minutes to a swimming pool to start off my pre-marathon cross-training and they were shut due to lack of chlorine in the pool, which seems a bit of a fucking pool essential.  And then, when I called Dan on the way home, he sweetly suggested that I could pick him up dinner as I wasn’t going swimming any more. Suffice to say, he got his own damn food. Anyway, I’m going off topic. Here are some reasons why January is crap – and some why it’s cracking.

Cracking: It’s a fresh start

Whether you believe in resolutions or not, there’s something about the fresh slate of a new year to make you get up off your butt and attempt to achieve something. You’ll find the balls to try something new and you can either fall in love with it or have a funny memory about the time you forked out £50 to try zorbing.

Crap: You’re probably hopelessly poor

Paying off Christmas isn’t cheap. December is the Friday of the months, with the Happy Hour to match. Except now it’s Monday and the Happy Hour has come to bite you on the arse.

Cracking: Hibernating

It’s cold so you can stay inside under a blanket and watch TV and eat the rest of your Christmas chocolate or try new healthy recipes at home. Or both.

Crap: Christmas is over

At the end of each road are a melee of dead trees, all forlorn and droopy. No-one gives you a cracker at lunch. There’s no presents to unwrap.

Cracking: You’re probably acting the healthiest you’ll be all year

No, seriously, hear me out. This is probably the time you are swerving off the cigarettes. Dry January is big. You’re eating your greens and going to bed at a normal time and you’re all smug, even if it just lasts until the 31st.

Crap: It’s cold and you’re fat

You’re just a pudding in a snowstorm, my friend.

About me

I'm Florence and I like to write.

When I'm not writing about pensions and mortgages in my day job, I write about my life in London, in which I cannot afford a mortgage even if I sold off a kidney, and I've still got another 40 years at least before I can access my pension.

I'd say I'm an ordinary girl looking for an extraordinary life, but clichéd phrases really annoy me.

Read my blog to find out more about my pet hates; and more on the places and things I love. And if you want to, please feel free to contact me with article ideas or feedback.