Usually our decorations come down on Twelfth Night (lest Old Nick takes them down), but this year we felt moved to expunge any evidence of festivity before the sun has set on New Year's Day. A lot of the time, it has been a dispiriting period of mild illness, anxiety and Weltschmerz. As if the Christmas trees, both evil and good, brought darkness under our roof rather than green-ness - not the 'deep and dazzling darkness' of spirituality but plain ol' darkitude.
So away with it - let the sussurus of fallen needles sucking into the Dyson herald a new time.
(I have exaggerated for comic effect - we had some nice times with friends, feasts and fun - but we've come up short on the good cheer account - and therefore need to kick some imaginary seasonal butt.)
I like to plan my way out of negativity, so that's what I've been doing. Next Christmas may be a plainer affair with more focus on visiting people followed by some non-festive vacation. And I've started on a longer-term scheme to walk home for my 50th birthday... in many chunks over the next four years, but doing all the steps back from where I live now, through previous hometowns to my point of origin.