After yesterday’s awful lunch experience (bitter, glutinous lemon chicken that was neither lemony nor chickeny, cold noodles) nearly ruined Chinese food for me, I decided to have one more try today. From now on I shall eat only at Soho’s Yumi Food Bar, where £3.50 buys you noodles or rice and two toppings: the chicken curry and spicy ginger pork are particularly fine. The food comes in a vast plastic take-away trough, and eating even half of it is an achievement.

Two reasons why January is the cruellest month

1) All I want to do is lie down and sleep. Anywhere. All the time. Even at work (especially at work), on the bus, in the bath. At the moment the floor space under my desk is a jumble of old files, books, bubble wrap and paintings (just don’t ask), but I am thinking of converting it into a cocoon, with padded floor and sides. Have felt like this all month: shaggy dark hair in my eyes and bellowing when disturbed.

2) Despite Dr John Briffa’s hatred of anything that might possibly taste nice, on these short, cold days all I want to eat is stodge. Coffee, pasta, prawns, cinnamon bread and pierogi all get the thumbs-down from the good doctor: to me they combine to make the perfect meal. It’s a sad fact that the things I want to eat are making me tired and sluggish, while the things that would give me verve and pep aren’t appetising.