I’ve always maintained that the months from November to March are my nadir. Most winters, my mood dips drastically, lethargy consumes me, I retreat to the safety and comfort provided by the confines of my home and my bed. My relationship with the little dog suffers because he is generally confined to on-lead walks, which he hates, which makes me resent him; we both miss the hour-long explorations of the local woods.

Whether my winter depression is real, whether it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy (akin to the attestations of those who claim to hate Christmas for the sake of it), or maybe a combination of the two, the fact of the matter is that I detest the dark months.

This winter, here in the UK, we’ve experienced greyness, hurricane-force winds and constant rain. Whereas most years, we are at least granted some merciful sunshine and crisp, frosty days, the winter of 2013-14 will go down in history as the biggest pile of shit in recorded history – and we’ve not even been flooded up here. Even the penguins are on anti-depressants.

But today is the 20th of February and March is just around the corner. The move into the third month of the year will hopefully bring more favourable weather, but if not that, light and flowers and pancakes.

Bring. It. On.

I shall welcome the spring by finally painting my bedroom. For the past few months I’ve been taunted by the paint splodges on the walls. I’ve no idea what came over me, but I thought some shade of blue would be the way forward, but the more I’ve been looking this mess, the more my love of neutrals has been confirmed. It won’t be magnolia, but it won’t be far off. Can’t go wrong with Natural Hessian.

Forward thinking
Many things about the forthcoming months are uncertain, but one thing that is almost certain to happen before the end of the summer is the surgery to remove the troublesome growth in my parathyroid gland. I have many troublesome growths – my entire body is a troublesome growth, but this particular one has been causing grief for over a year now.

The surgery is dependent on genetics testing to determine whether I’m a mutant, but irrespective of that, it’s probably going to be quite brutal. I’m having visions of near decapitation, arterial spurts and severing of vital nerves. I tend to get these visions when I’m plotting revenge against those who have wronged me, but it’s different when the scalpel cutting a six inch incision on your own neck.

Still, I get a fortnight off work afterwards and then there’s the fun of buying accessories to cover the wound as it heals. I’m undecided between an Elizabethan ruff and an Hermes scarf and I need to check out eBay in order to help this process.

Tina has got a Cortina
I haven’t, and I know it was Gina. I wonder what it’d be like to drive one of those 1970s beauties. No power steering, no ABS, no air-con, no electric windows, a shit stereo that’s not even a stereo. God, how did people even live back then?

So yes, cars. I bit the bullet and changed my trusty old Nissan Almera recently… for a slightly less old Almera that needs to earn my trust. I liked the colour and the fact that it has five doors and a seatbelt that doesn’t garrotte me… ooh, and leather, and alloys AND A SPOILER! I mean, why would you need any additions to spoil an Almera when the basic design does it pretty much anyway? Still, it’s nice and it’s comfortable and it should last me a few years.

I’ve come to the conclusion that, unless money is no object, you’re really better off paying no more than £500 a year for the purchase of a car – the last one cost me £300 a year (actually, it cost me about £90 a year), the one before that cost me £2,000 a year. They all got me to and from work and the places that I needed to be in pretty decent comfort (apart from the seatbelt thing) with wonderful reliability.

Caveat emptor, they say, whoever they are. Never a truer word is spoken than in relation to buying a car (or a dog). Plus there’s that thing of, if it looks too good to be true, then there’s probably something wrong with it – as I found out when an HPI check saved me from buying an almost perfect, beautiful, low mileage… insurance write off.

Shame you can’t do HPI checks on mini schnauzer puppies.

Ghosts
After previous experiences with significant others, in particular the last one, I always promised myself that I would not allow anybody to ride roughshod over my emotions and that any hint of suspicion would have me running for the hills. This is all well and good, but it’s probably a better idea to deal with the issues of one’s past completely so that they can’t continue to have a detrimental effect as you move on through life. I need a bloody good kick up the arse.