BLUE MONDAY

It's supposed to be 'Blue Monday' today. I forgot all about it, so I've turned up to work feeling happy and contented. And who could blame me? When I walked in this morning, the world was postcard-perfect: a bright, cold sky, sparkling frost and the low wintry sun casting long shadows through the morning mists. There's very little to be blue about on such days.

"Morning," I said to my colleagues, cheerily. Nothing. I smiled, slipped out of my coat and swivelled into my chair.

It's funny how we have our little morning routines. Mine goes right down to the detail. I pulled my keyboard out in front of me, rubbed my hands together to get the circulation flowing and then punched Ctrl+Alt+Delete to log in.

Even the computer had somehow twigged it was 'Blue Monday'. It took forever to get past the Welcome screen (which is, incidentally, blue). I went through to the kitchen and made a hot chocolate while it struggled to remember who I was.

We have an extraordinary coffee machine. It has futuristic, angled buttons and when you punch in your selection, the whole thing illuminates your cup with cool-blue lights. Much to the developers' chagrin though, it uses powdered milk and a brown powder that's supposed to taste like coffee. Some time ago, someone told The Big Cheese that 'proper coffee' would be a winner with the engineering department but failed to specify. What could be more apposite then, TBC must have thought to himself, than a Star-Trek-style replicator globbing out perfect coffee every time?

It's not too popular down here but it makes a feasible hot-choc.

While the Nestle 3000 (or whatever it's called) was whirring and flashing away, I did my usual scan of the vending machine. This little ritual is probably the closest I get to 'window shopping' - focusing past my reflection in the cold glass and counting the Bounties. I couldn't help noticing that they've put the prices up. Unbelievable. Twirls are now a staggering 75p. Even the humble KitKat Chunky sets you back 65 of your English pence!

It suddenly felt like Blue Monday was out to get me. In fact, when I got back to my desk, I opened two emails that may as well have been Exocet missiles zipping through the air towards my good humour. I quickly replied as graciously as I could muster - the most effective defence against sarcasm I know.

It's supposed to be the most depressing day of the year, Blue Monday. It's a complicated calculation involving nebulous factors like Time Since Christmas, Debt Incurred, Weather and Motivation Level.

Depressing. 

Only, it's not is it?

I did a little research and guess what? Blue Monday was invented by a travel company! Yup, suddenly it all fits together. You've seen the ads: sandy white beaches, flowing cotton, impossibly blue skies and sunsets over wine glasses. The travel companies know what they're up to in bleak old January in 'miserable' old England.

Blue Monday is just another marketing ploy to get us all thinking about jetting off to parts of the world where we don't need to pack extra socks and an umbrella. It's a subtle trick, designed to persuade us that life is depressing and that little things like holidays are the only hope we've got of turning the battleship-grey skies of the ordinary into the brilliant blues and yellows of a perfect vacation.

Well listen up, Britain. That's not the truth. You don't have to have a Blue Monday. You can decide. You can make a choice to change your own atmosphere and find a little sunshine wherever you are.

-

Apparently, it's also Penguin Awareness Day. Are you aware of penguins? Goodo. Me too. I'd much rather celebrate that than how depressed some company thinks I ought to be. After all, we can climb aboard a metal tube and zip off to Benidorm; these little fellas can't fly anywhere at all, and they've got actual wings. They just get on with it.

I could learn a lot from penguins.