Hannah Colby

January can be a pretty miserable month.

January can be a pretty miserable month.

At this stage of the year, I spend an awful lot of my time thinking about time.

The theme for this month's article wasn't immediately obvious. I'd spent quite a few days mulling over the topic. But earlier this week, a letter was published in the paper. I missed the original, but I saw the online version.

The theme for this month's article wasn't immediately obvious. I'd spent quite a few days mulling over the topic. But earlier this week, a letter was published in the paper. I missed the original, but I saw the online version.

Last week, a young colleague of mine brought his new girlfriend into work for the first time.

I've been writing these columns nearly two years now. It still brings a tiny flush of excitement when I see my name in print and, as with anything, the more you do it, the better you get. At least, that's what I've always thought.

I really didn't want to do this. I did everything in my power to resist. I trawled through the depths of my mind to find something – anything – that would allow me to avoid it.

I recently saw a report printed in a national newspaper, detailing how a man of 20 had died after playing computer games for 12 hours straight.

Every year, I make myself a promise to myself to be organised at Christmas, and every year, I break it.