The days between Christmas and New Year's are a festive limbo - a form of a strange vortex where even time itself seems to be operating at a different pace.

Christmas is over. It's done. The lights have come down, the crackers have blown their load and sweet wrappers are appearing everywhere. We're through. Exhausted, full and sleepy, we now have to survive this awkward period - these few grave days between Christmas and New Year.

Of course, there are options in this period. Not having to work for a few more days can be turned into a positive. If you can prise yourself out of the depths of your armchair, there are possibilities. You can, for example, try out your new gloves on a long walk. Waddle past frozen lakes and other gutted humans or find a pantomime and catch up on some much-needed humour. After all, laughing is good for the soul. You can find a quiet corner and knock out some thank-you letters. Other people like to find a project for this empty period. You can build a wall, say. Or organise a rave.

Another popular option at this difficult time is to hit the sales. Polish up the debit card, put on the armour and brave the streets. This is not without its problems, of course. If you’re anything like me, you’ll be penniless. I’ve just spent the past three weeks generously lavishing gifts on my loved ones – unfortunately, my bank account is now suffering. 'What have you done Devangi!' says Mr. Nationwide (while rolling in his grave at my lack of spending limits). I also treated myself to one or two trinkets while Christmas shopping, so the well is dry. There’s no use ‘fighting through the hordes’ only to suffer the humiliation of having your card declined in front of other dead-eyed bargain-hunting animals. 

One thought I did have, while gobbling up the last of some Chocolate baubles, would be to shift Christmas Day back a few days. Boris would never have the bravery to do it, of course. But if Christmas Day was on the 30th, then we could all wait for the sales on the 26th, buy our loved ones lots of half-price stuff and have a proper Christmas/New Year’s joint blow-out. Boris' old school, though, so I expect it will stay where it is.

And so we’re stuck with this awkward gap. I’m sat here, leaning against the tree, my presents all around me, watching Christmas sail sadly into the distance, and squinting onward towards the New Year’s lash, which still seems an eternity away. I’m just surveying my haul again. Another Pride and Prejudice. Some mittens.

I might put on the mittens and hold the book for a bit. Anything to kill a bit of time.