January. Sick and Tired, You've Been Hanging on Me

Pilate

The January Man, if we're to believe the song, 'walks abroad in woolen coat and boots of leather'. I'm not sure about that; but what has been a horrible month (God, I hate January) is, thankfully, nearly at an end.

I can almost see the distant uplands of spring - if not around the next corner, then maybe the one after that. I live in hope, as Barrington Womble once said.

And what better Long Song for the last Monday of this unfeasibly long month. Well, the clue is in today's title. That's right, Pilot.

Grandaddy - He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's the Pilot (2000)

The January Man

The curtains are drawn, the kettle is on. The thin morning sun coming through the kitchen window is giving nothing away.
Tea is now poured. My mind is wandering. I remember coming in last night and falling asleep, though the timings are hazy. I know the old year was asked to empty its desk and leave the building - its replacement ushered in seconds later through a side door. There'll be plenty of time for introductions later; we'll have the measure of one other soon enough.

I have a few errands to run this morning so I shall face this new January day, this new shiny first of the first, with the collar on my brand new winter coat turned up and my gait will be purposeful. This is how I shall start the day, this is how I shall start 2018. Walk tall, walk straight - as the song says. And let the New Year blink first.