New Year’s Day is every day. It is who am I? It is the slap of Lycra and a £9.99 takeaway pizza. New Year’s Day is a bullseye. It is League Two long ball football. It is a painkiller, an orange juice, a LEGO octopus. New Year’s Day is a bagel with cream cheese and an old school friend. New Year’s Day is loss. It is hamstrings stretches. It is loss. New Year’s Day is the vegetable you’re quite looking forward to after a five-day festival, a stranger asking you how you’re doing, a lightbulb in need of replacing.

Carl Burkitt 2025