November is the cruelest month
November 11, 2009
N.B. The title of this post does not refer to the killing of more than 45 million turkeys a year for American Thanksgivng tables, it’s just unhappy coincidence for the poor turkey pictured above. If you were hoping for a pro-veggie, anti-turkey eating tirade, I would recommend the new non-fiction book by the novelist Jonathan Safran Foer, Eating Animals (it’s illuminating!), or this shorter article in the New Yorker describing the book in all its gory detail.
A series of things takes place in my life between the end of October and the end of November which makes it rough going. The most basic is that London moves off daylight savings time, which means that the darkness starts to close in ever closer to noon. This is depressing enough in and of itself without the tri-facto I’m about to mention.
First, there is a certain lack of festivity in London in this period of the year, or more precisely, a premature Christmas festiveness which is explained by the half-hearted observance of Halloween and the non-existence of Thanksgiving. There is something that has to be said about US commercialisation of holidays – at least we have three between October 31 and December 25 to diversify amongst; I really can’t get into Christmas in early November (and yes, I’ve written about how this provokes my homesickness on this blog before).
Second, the autumn term at LSE, which runs 10 weeks between the first week of October and the second week of December, is in full swing, and therefore I am at a peak level of stress. Combine that with the third, and essentially, November acts as a knock out punch: it’s high flu season. One member of my family has been sick with something or another every weekend for the past three. I’m recovering from several days out with the flu, which is exhausting for all parties concerned (as I described it to a friend recently, having one parent sick transforms a “two parent, one child” household into a “one parent, two child” household).
The only bright spot in this season is that at the very end of November, I get to celebrate N.’s birthday, which is a very bright spot indeed. So it’s not actually that November is the cruelest month, but instead the month falling between 25 October (the day that the clocks rolled back and the sun went down before 5pm) and 25 November (Thanksgiving Eve, as despite the logistical challenges, I usually manage to get some friends and family together for a turkey). But saying that the non-calendrical month falling between the 25th of October and the 25th of November was the cruelest month just sounded so much less poetic.