“It’s not dark yet, but it’s gettin’ there”, sings Bob Dylan, in a warning growl. He might be referring to the benighted state of the world, or to his own mortality, but for me it’s a line that has particular resonance in the run-up to Christmas.

Every year, once Hallowe’en lanterns have been snuffed, it feels as if we are engaged in a battle to keep the encroaching darkness at bay. The sun takes longer to appear each the morning, and shadows start gathering, like unwanted guests, by mid-afternoon. It’s not dark yet…

As I write, the sun has just appeared over the horizon, spreading a rosy glow. Only now do I feel fully awake, even though I’ve been up for hours. In another corner of the sky, the moon is still visible, cast into the shade for the moment, but awaiting its turn. That, sadly, will be here all too soon.

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Andrew Ridgeley: Christmas has a sadness now after George's death

If you had trouble getting into gear this morning, ignoring the alarm clock or sluggishly slurping your porridge, the reason is obvious. Today is the winter solstice, when the sun is at its lowest point in the sky, and the hours of darkness reign supreme. On this date we see less sun than in the previous 364 days.

The fabled Blue Monday of late January is as nothing to the depressive mood this absence creates. And even though we can flick a switch and instantly illuminate our houses, the blackness pressing against our windows, and the rationed allowance of daylight, often lowers spirits.

Perversely, I’ve always loved this time of year. Midwinter is one of........

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