I'm beginning to think that there's not really any part of the year that is what I'd call "ideal" conditions in this country. The summer months are far too hot, and the winter months we're moving into now are far too cold, wet, windy and just generally irritating.

There's a special kind of unpleasantness about winter, though. As I sit here typing this, the weather outside can probably be best described as sounding "hostile". The wind is blowing, picking up and howling through the streets and alleyways; the rain is falling, drenching everything and turning anything that isn't concreted over into a swampy mire of brown gunge; there's a draught coming in from somewhere around the window that I haven't managed to identify as yet.

Not only that, but we're at that time of year where, assuming you go out to work, you're probably leaving your house when it's dark and not getting back until it's dark either. All in all, it's a fairly bleak time of the year, and it's unsurprising that it puts some people in dark moods.

I'm not sure what changed my outlook. When I was young, I used to quite like winter. I used to enjoy the early darkness and the necessity to carry a torch around — I must confess I still do have an odd liking for wielding a torch, even if it's only an improvised one using my phone's flash — and I used to like wrapping up in layers to be immune to the waves of cold in the air. I used to enjoy the run-up to the Christmas period, complete with village carol singing and the inevitability of being invited in for brandy and mince pies at least once or twice during our nightly tours of the mean streets of Great Gransden. I never used to really notice the bleakness.

So what changed? I wonder. Perhaps it's just the fact that my life is very different to how it was when I was younger; the fact that now, rather than living the carefree life of a child, I have my own responsibilities and anxieties to worry about, including the necessity of getting up and going out — often in horrible weather — to get to work on time, then getting home in often equally horrible weather only to slump down, pretty tired out and not really desirous of doing anything other than something that doesn't require a huge amount of mental activity.

Perhaps I'm just not quite in the rhythm of the full-time job set just yet. I've been doing pretty well, though; I've managed to maintain my routine of getting up earlier than I was, leaving earlier than I was and usually missing the bulk of the traffic of a morning and sometimes in the evening too. This puts me in a somewhat more positive frame of mind, even if the weather is as hostile as it sounds like it is as I type this. There's still that ever-present feeling of tiredness, of slogging on towards some as-yet unknown destination. But that's just how life works for the vast majority of the population; I should probably get used to it.

I have an away-day for work tomorrow. Not really relishing the prospect of having to stay overnight, but at least the accommodation is paid for (albeit in boardings described by one reviewer on TripAdvisor as "like a prison camp, only dirtier") and we're getting fed. And then at the end of this week Andie and I are taking a short break at Center Parcs over in Longleat for her birthday treat. I'm looking forward to that, so I guess there's the objective for this week, if nothing else.

On that note, then, it's time to wrap up warm, snuggle down under the duvet and get some sleep for a horrendously even-earlier-than-the-new-usual start tomorrow morning. Expect a grumpy post from my phone tomorrow evening, and the comics will be back the day after assuming I don't just collapse from exhaustion the moment I get back in.