January- still going and looking forward to February.

January- looking good, bright and healthy but cold at the same time.

Last night I spotted a cherry red sunset with just a hint of apple, orange, and a few flickering shadows of yellow. For a moment I was spellbound. Then a flock of gulls seemed to float and then swoop and then dart. It was almost as if they could read each other's mind. I have to tell you that it was mesmerising and if I could have captured the moment on camera then I certainly would have done so.

Then the sunset just sat very comfortably in the sky waiting patiently for night to wrap a sympathetic arm around it. The temperature suddenly dropped rapidly and last night had to be the coldest night of the year here in the London suburbs. I pulled the blanket over me and that didn't really have the desired effect. January seems to be hanging around ominously and there is a part of me that just longs for the medicinal properties that spring can bring. I think most of Britain has been ill or sick at some point which is unusual because these yearly wintry illnesses normally take the year off. But January has just been relentlessly poorly. My heart goes out to all of our hard working and dedicated doctors. You've all done a wonderful job and the world takes its hat off to you. Isn't life beautiful?

I thought my coughing had gone but then, but wouldn't you know it. It came back again and I must have dropped off to sleep at about 3-30 in the morning. Thankfully it went but, to be honest, night time TV didn't seem the most attractive alternative. In fact there is nothing of any value or significance at all on the TV at that unearthly hour of the morning. All you've got are a tedious sequence of quiz shows that have already been shown at least 25 times and rolling news that just keeps repeating itself ad infinitum.

But I woke up this morning, looked out of the window and found a bright, crisp winter's morning, full of yellow splashes of colour decorating the rooftops and those gulls wheeling and diving across in perpetual motion. It's hard to know where they go but to all outward appearances, they do look pretty smug and satisfied with their lot in life. Occasionally they land on a TV aeriel or maybe an obliging rooftop where they can rest their wings and beaks. I have to say they look tireless and there is an air of effortless authority about them that you can't help but admire. Then they just stare very thoughtfully at the traffic and cars below and then breathe a sigh of relief, perplexed at the scene around them and then grateful that the roles are never likely to be reversed.

Still I think most of us are looking forward to February. January feels as if it's been stuck, trapped and marooned in some remote wilderness. There is a thin layer of ice and frost on the pavements and it's at times like this when your heart goes out to all of our farmers out there. Now there's a thankless task. There they are deep in the country, rounding up their precious sheep and cows with an admirable devotion to duty. Goodness me how cold it must get at the crack of dawn when all they really want to do is turn over in their beds and go back to sleep.

January has coped well with everything that's been thrown at it. Of course it's hard and painstaking but hey we've made it to the end- well almost the end. When it looked as though January just couldn't manage with all those aching ailments you have to believe that February will take one look at us and smile radiantly. January may try to outstay its welcome but February will just shrug its shoulders and guide us safely into calmer waters.

Outside in the streets London is alive and well and wrapped up warmly. There they go wandering around in their thick coats, bobble hats securely perched on their heads, loose scarves rakishly clinging to their neck and a ruck sack faithfully attached to their backs. Now I'm not sure whether this is the latest fashion or fad but ruck sacks and men with beards have made me sit up and take notice. Is this some new kind of cultural phenomenon or are men's faces in need of warm protection when the cold gets to them?

Then they pull up their hoods, pull on their January gloves and protect themselves against the elements and the vagaries of the British winter. Throughout the year I always see runners or joggers in all their most athletic gear. Now those same track- suited runners or joggers are trotting down roads with music in their ears and garish head bands on their forehead. These are strange times indeed. But the more I think about it the less clearer it becomes. Still maybe there is a rhyme and reason to it all and it's all perfectly logical.

So here we are in the dying embers of another late January afternoon. That thick dusting of frost has left very prominent white marks on our pavements and those trees look like knotted and twisted veins. In the distance, one tree looks completely tangled, a cat's cradle of  branches that just seem to cry out for that far off distant day at the beginning of Spring. There is a sad complexity about this tree's life because a tree without its comforting cover of green is almost tragic in its poignancy. I almost allowed a tear to drop from my eye but couldn't bring myself to cry. It is just winter being winter.

Finally winter has closure and confirmation. It wrestled indefinitely with those cold blasts and chilly draughts and, at long last. it does seem to have come to terms with its vulnerabilities. It is now early evening and all is very quiet and settled again as well it should be. Even those squirrels have given up on their pursuit of food around here and the joggers should be soaking their feet in some welcome warm water, tucking perhaps into some late Sunday roast. My London suburb has now lost its air of athleticism and the stamina has drained from the now darkening day.

Oh well. It's time to ease off the accelerator, take it easy, slow down and make way for the concluding chapter of the weekend. The churchgoers have shaken the religious hands of their vicar, my Jewish family and friends are looking forward to Tu Bishvat, the festival of trees, in a couple of weeks time and it's time to wind down.

 January has got just over a week to carry out its formalities and observe its time-honoured rituals. I expect it'll  put out a red carpet for February when it does arrive but not before it's ready. It looks as if patience will have to be a virtue. Hold on I'm sure I can see some daffodils in full bloom. Or perhaps I should just hibernate. Could somebody put the heating on?  On second thoughts let's just wait for a while.