Welcome Back to Work!

We woke up this morning to the sound of wind battering the bedroom window urgently and heavy rain lashing against the panes. We snuggled deeper under the covers willing the snooze on our alarms to last for an hour rather than ten minutes.

Somehow, after many many snooze button hits, we managed to find our way out of bed, the blinding main light was on, the cold was felt as we stumbled about with half-open eyes, grabbing at clothes from the wardrobes and drawers. I say "we" but I mean "my husband." I hid under the covers for as long as possible. And then I had to leap up into the cold and get ready for work.

The first day back after Christmas...always the hardest in my experience. Thankfully my husband had lovingly made me a cup of tea and this helped me turn from a zombie into something vaguely representing a serious working woman...Sort of...

Then things just went from bad to worse. Although the rain had stopped I left the house a whole 6 minutes later than usual because I spent so long dithering over what jewellery and which scarf I wanted to wear. I had to run, my coat flapping in the wind, my handbag slapping me in the side, my hair trying to style itself into that hot new scarecrow look (you know the one...). I made it to the bus stop just as the double decker beast came rumbling round the corner. My lungs were screaming in agony and my heart felt like it was going to burst. I could barely speak as I paid for my ticket. Yet more proof that I need to exercise more in 2012 than I did in 2011.

I spent the first part of the bus journey slumped in my seat, gasping for breath, looking mournfully out of the steamy window at the blackness of the bleak morning.

A few miles into the journey the bus chose to idle for several minutes in a village with no street lights, and where no one at all seemed to be awake. It was still so dark that you couldn't see anything apart from the occasional leaf that pasted itself to the window only to be ripped off by the unrelenting wind, which rocked the bus from side to side as hail began to drum heavily on the roof. "I bet the bus breaks down here," I thought. "And then we'll have to stand in the middle of nowhere for at least an hour before another one comes and rescues us. If another one comes and rescues us."

What is it about the first day back at work after Christmas that is always so difficult? And why does the day always turn out so badly? Last year, on an equally dreary but slightly less breezy first day back at work I tripped over on my way up the high street. As my umbrella went one way and my bag the other, people stepped over and around me and not a single one helped me up. I had cut my knee and after being laughed at by colleagues who had indulged on too many mince pies, I had gone to reception to meekly ask for a plaster. The receptionist, bellowing so that all the sharp suited councillors gazing at their reflections in the shiny glass windows turned to regard me with intrigue, informed me of the new council policy that only a qualified first aider could assist me and she called around until one was pulled out of her morning meeting to attend me in the medical room. I had to sit like an obedient school child whilst she cleaned and dressed the pathetic little wound in a plaster that was at best too small, and at worst completely inadequate at doing anything other than sticking to my trousers instead of my knee. I didn't even get a lollipop for not crying. In hindsight, maybe I should have resigned there and then.

Deep in my gloomy thoughts I hadn't noticed that the bus was thundering once more along the narrow country lane and back out onto the main road. Before I knew it I was at work.

Work where there had been no delivery to the canteen, so no milk for hot drinks. And the hot drinks machine, which is always a last resort in any case, was not working.

Bad to worse.

The wild gale force winds continued all morning, cruelly tearing the automatic doors open every few moments so that I was sitting in a constant draught. The heavy rain hammered on the office roof, and saturated to the bone anyone who dared cross the site to one of the other buildings.

The final straw was the power going out. At least we could go home.

But no, the generator kicked in, the lights flickered back on, and the computers slowly juddered back to life.

And so it was time for me to acknowledge that Yuletide is over, and that normal life is back in full swing.

And you know what? It's really not that bad. In fact, I quite like it. Compared to this time a year ago I have very little to complain about. And although I may have been sporting a 'dragged through a hedge backwards' hairstyle, at least I wasn't hobbling around on a sore knee that had been plastered in a ham-fisted fashion by an incompetent first aider - that is why I wanted to put on the plaster myself, why didn't the receptionist understand that? Mmm, is it time for me to stop being bitter about that? I think so.

Therefore, whilst I cannot quite conjure up the enthusiasm of our country's finest weather forecasters, I will thank you United Kingdom, for battering us and soaking us on our first working day of 2012. You sure know how to kick us back into reality!