I love this in-between bit.
That time of the season when proper cooking goes out the window, endless snacking is the order of the day and you concoct interesting combinations (Twiglet, falafel and cranberry sauce sandwich anyone?) from all the festive stuff stashed in various parts of the kitchen.
That time when you sit down and have a proper look at all the presents you received but were too busy on the day itself, making sure everyone received the right packages, to really appreciate.
That time when almost every cup of coffee is accompanied by a big chunk of Christmas cake which even you can join in with because you managed to make a vegan version at the last minute.
That time when you crave a walk along the beach but when you get there find the tide is well in and you've been joined by the world and his wife and dog. But you thoroughly enjoy breathing in that sea air, the Boo doesn't make a show of himself, there's a great atmosphere and you even join the long queue at the fish and chip hatch, because eating a bag of hot salty chips in the car before you drive home is what you always do in the in-between bit.
That time when you rush to finish your current book at bedtime (not a problem with Everything I Never Told You, which was the most brilliant read) so that you can start reading the latest Patricia Cornwell which, magically, always appears in your present pile.
That time when you visit the local panto (Cinderella this year) which turns out to be far from the best you've ever seen, choreographed with a definite 1980s theme and with clunkily executed special effects. But you join in all the arm waving and shouting of the responses and, predictably, cry when the two pristinely white Shetland ponies appear and out-act the rest of the cast.
That time when you just lie back, put your feet up and enjoy some rather good telly.
That time when you start to think about the year that's about to begin and how it might unfold and how the hell you're going to make room for all that new stuff.