AS WE turn up our collars against the driving rain and loosen our belts to allow for the seasonal expansion of our waistlines, it might be tempting, these dreich January mornings, to stand in the damp, grey street and shake an overdrawn chequebook at the glowering face of heaven. Then again, you may simply decide to stay in bed.
But, wait for it, the worst is yet to come, and it falls today: not a blizzard, a financial crash or even a rogue asteroid, but the dire convergence of all our seasonal woes, the most depressing day of 2006, as identified by psychologist Dr Cliff Arn
all of Cardiff University's Centre for Lifelong Learning, an expert in seasonal disorders and a man who likes his formulae.
Last year Arnall created a formula enabling those rash enough to do so to calculate their life expectancy (involving factors such as genetic inheritance, optimism, nutrition, and relationships). We don't know what percentage of the population decided not to bother getting up this morning as a result, but expect a rash of absenteeism today, as another formula he has made up identifies it as the most miserable day of the year (last year he similarly predicted 24 January as Day of Gloom).
Taking into account factors such as foul weather, Christmas debts, the lingering effects of seasonal overindulgence, failed New Year's resolutions and generally reduced motivation, Arnall's worst day "formula" is ([W + (D-d)] x TQ) ÷ (M x NA). (W: weather, D: debt, d: money due in January pay, T: time elapsed since Christmas, Q: time since failed New Year's resolutions to quit smoking, drinking etc, M: general motivational levels, NA: the need to take action.)
For centuries, people have nursed the notion that certain days of the year were unlucky or downright dangerous (although Friday the 13th is a Victorian invention). Once these inauspicious dates were known as "Egyptian days", possibly because it was thought that the method for calculating them went back to early Egyptian times or because they were associated with events such as the biblical plagues which Moses brought upon his Egyptian oppressors. Indeed, the very word commonly applied to this time of year - "dismal" - is derived from the Latin dies mala, meaning "bad day".
Once upon a time, prophets would cast runes, consider the stars, dabble in chickens' entrails. These days, equations are the thing. But one hardly has to be a mathematician to conclude that on a foul January morning, with the Christmas shopping bills yet to be paid, pine needles littering the carpet and a metabolism running on alcohol and blood-warming carbohydrates, the world is a far from cheery place.
Dr Evelyn Millings, a chartered psychologist and lecturer with Glasgow Caledonian University, regards Arnall's formula as a bit of a gimmick, although based on commonsensical reasoning. "Let's face it, who's going to actually do all these calculations?" she asks, but goes on to offer some suggestions to offset the effect of these dismal days.
One straightforward improvement, she suggests, is simply to dress more brightly. "When the weather is so gloomy and you look around and everyone is walking about in blacks and greys and browns, that in itself can be quite depressing.
"There's also the fact that only four weeks ago, everything was bright and cheery, with Christmas lights and everything; suddenly it's all dull. I would suggest trying to keep as much colour in your life as possible."
While in no way endorsing those eccentrics who celebrate Christmas every day of the year with national-grid-depleting illuminations, she suggests perhaps keeping a few cheerful lights going. And for Seasonal Affected Disorder (SAD) sufferers in particular, she agrees that light and colour are essential to offset the shortened day. Also, she advises, don't let your socialising drop to zero after the festive glut, even if you are watching the pennies. Economising between now and your next payday will bring a sense of being over the worst come February.
And those inevitable results of overeating? Millings sounds cavalier when it comes to working it all off: "Obviously, winter indulgence means many people feel depressed because they have put on weight. So we have to accept we must cut back a little, but that doesn't mean we can't have our treats. It's a good idea to designate a treat for a certain time in the week - but be sensible. I would steer away from compulsive exercise, because that can create problems of its own. Walking is good."
As long as your stroll isn't to the pub, presumably. Another obvious antidote to those January blues is to plan a summer holiday - perhaps it should come as no surprise to read that Arnall's research was commissioned by a travel company. Arnall himself admits this, but argues that the ultimate purpose of his formula reaches much further than a package flight to Mallorca.
"The reason I got involved was that, in my view, a lot of psychology is confined to universities and laboratories and doesn't get out enough. I'm a specialist in the study of confidence and happiness, and I want people talking about this formula, at work and at home, and to think about how they run their lives and how they can feel better about themselves. We all tend to buy into the idea of turning over a new leaf in January, but if people don't actually do something about it, well...
"But if they can make just one small change - if they take exercise and outdoor activity a bit more seriously, if they get into less debt and therefore start the year in a much better frame of mind, these things do matter."
Arnall agrees many of the factors underlying his "worst day" formula are hardly rocket science: "The idea was to bring together all the factors that people were saying contributed to their feeling down. A lot of it seems like common sense because it was derived from working with real people, rather than in a laboratory or more formal tests."
North of the Border, of course, rather than staying under the covers on the 23rd, many of us may well be looking forward to the further revels of Burns Night, just two days after Arnall's day of gloom. But while the haggis-stabbing bacchanal may ensure we are temporarily cheered, its Bardic excesses may also pitch us headfirst into yet another slough of despond the morning after. Perhaps Arnall's formula should take on board another factor - SWH (surfeit of whisky and haggis).
In the meantime, try not to have too bad a day.
For more information, you can visit the website where Arnall's formula is published at www.cardiff.ac.uk/newsevents/10592
