I truly hate November. Nothing good happens in November. The world gets darker. Even if the sun appears, it’s so low in the sky that it can’t be blocked by the visors in my car, which means that I drive while my eyes are dazzled, and at the same time squinting into the shadowy murk.
If I’m driving toward you, best you keep the high-vis jacket on and stay ready to jump in the nearest ditch. Just saying.
A typical November for me includes bringing our 10-year-old car for its NCT, with financial ruin a likely result; paying the TV licence; and rounding up two combative cats and a neurotic dog for a group outing to the vet for their shots. Oh, and the car insurance is due.
But I resent November most because, second by second, it drags me closer to the day I really dread: December 25th.
Starting every St Stephen’s Day, I enjoy a good six-month spell when, no matter what goes wrong, I can tell myself, “Ah, well. At least it’s not Christmas.”
After the summer solstice, my Yuletide relief (“Thank God that’s over”) starts to ebb, to be replaced by unease (“Already?”) and panic (“No! No! No!”). November puts paid to the sweet days of denial. I’ve already read an interview with cook Darina Allen, nagging me to crack on with the Christmas baking.
What’s not to hate?
November needs a revamp. An overhaul. A rebranding. Otherwise, the month will forever remain nothing but a countdown to You Know What.
I know we’re supposed to moan about the way American culture calls the shots. Thanks to the US genius for exporting their customs, we now routinely do things that would’ve been bizarre during my childhood – having a good time on St Patrick’s Day, carving pumpkins at Halloween, eating tubs of popcorn at the pictures (sorry, movies).
However, give the Yanks this: they’ve solved the problem of November. On the fourth Thursday of the month they celebrate Thanksgiving, which brightens up November amazingly well.
Seeing as we already adopt so many American ways, why not Thanksgiving?
When I lived in the United States, Thanksgiving was my favourite holiday. Unlike the big end-of-year blowout, it’s actually fun. And very sweet.
Because Thanksgiving falls on a Thursday, it gifts many American workers a four-day weekend, which is monstrously indolent in a country where you can go five months without a bank holiday. A four-day weekend would set me up nicely for the endurance tests ahead, such as queuing in an overheated shop for a small necessity I should’ve bought weeks before but can’t possibly do without. Like Sellotape.
Thanksgiving is so nice because it’s social rather than commercial. Basically, you get together with friends or loved ones and eat a good meal. That’s it. Okay, you might have to buy a turkey, but someone else will bring the sweet potatoes or pumpkin pie. No massive shop, no wrapping, no decorating, no Santy or Kris Kringle, no pressure to spend money you don’t have on tat, no credit-card-induced coronary.
This is what Christmas should be.
Of course, the festival can bring its own pressures. A colleague of mine returned to work glowing with good will after she and her family spent Thanksgiving with distant cousins. They celebrated in a delightfully old-fashioned way, culminating in a sing-song as her accomplished relatives took turns on the piano.
Yes, my colleague’s family loved it, but they were uncomfortably aware that it was then their turn to invite the cousins over the following year. Uncomfortable because their own Thanksgiving tradition was not to sing songs around the piano, but to watch American football on TV all day, during the meal included.
Such social awkwardness aside, the core message of Thanksgiving is touching: that no matter how hard life is, most of us have reasons to be grateful. We should think about those good things in our lives and give thanks for them.
I once attended a Thanksgiving Mass that made a big impression on me. Members of the congregation were asked to come to the altar and tell us what had happened that year to make them thankful. It was humbling. People gave thanks for big, life-changing events, such as falling in love or having a healthy baby. One woman was grateful that her treatment for cancer worked. Another had survived a bad car crash. There’s nothing like hearing your neighbours describe how they cheated death to make you realise how very lucky you are.
What's more, counting your blessings can boost your mental health. "In positive psychology research, gratitude is strongly and consistently associated with greater happiness," says Harvard Medical School. "Gratitude helps people feel more positive emotions, relish good experiences, improve their health, deal with adversity, and build strong relationships."
So, c’mon. Let’s embrace one holiday that’s not about drinking, spending or exhausting ourselves, but simply eyeing up our lives and saying thanks for the good stuff. Before the madness kicks in. Kathy Sheridan is on leave