There is a strange quiet that arrives in-between Christmas and New Year. The world seems to pause, as if holding its breath. Time loses structure. Days blur. Half-eaten mince pies stare at you with judgement. It is the season of soft jumpers, slow mornings and the occasional existential wobble in a supermarket car park.
It is also the moment when many of us start tallying the year that was. What worked? What didn’t? Who did we become, and who do we hope to be next? Change begets change, and the closing days of December invite us to look both backwards and forwards with a mixture of gratitude and “good grief”.
This isn’t just cultural habit. It is psychological reality.
Researchers at University College London reported that levels of depression and anxiety rose sharply over December, particularly among young adults. Their findings suggest that this period intensifies emotional reflection because the brain is acutely sensitive to transitions. As the year ends, we instinctively try to make sense of our story, and in that search for meaning, unresolved feelings often rise to the surface. For some, it feels reflective. For others, raw. For many, both at once.
That is why it’s important to say this clearly:
If you feel a little wobbly at this time of year, you are not alone.
On the Humourology Podcast, countless guests have spoken about this in their own way. Comedians, CEOs, writers, scientists, politicians and performers all confess that the “in-between days” can bring a peculiar heaviness. The highs and lows of the year sit side by side, tugging for attention. Even laughter takes on a different quality, becoming quieter, gentler and sometimes more necessary than ever.
What I have learned, in boardrooms and green rooms alike, is that humour is not the opposite of seriousness. It is a companion to it. Humour is a release valve, a pattern interrupter, a reminder that even as life twists and turns, we can still find light and connection. Neuroscience tells us that small moments of humour reduce cortisol and increase dopamine, making reflection feel safer and more spacious. Even a soft smile can shift the state of the nervous system.
So, as we reflect on a year that has brought its share of growth, graft, good fortune and the odd curveball, here is a thought:
We can hold the truth of our difficulties without letting them define the year ahead.
And that, in many ways, is pure Humourology. Humour, humanity and humility walking hand in hand into whatever comes next.
Here are three gentle thoughts to help you navigate these liminal days.
- Honour what went right, without ignoring what was hard
The brain has a built-in negativity bias, which means we naturally remember the difficult moments more vividly than the joyful ones. A short reflective exercise at the end of the year helps rebalance the equation. Write down three things you handled well this year, however small. Progress often arrives disguised as persistence. - Give yourself permission to feel both relieved and rattled
Psychologists call this time of year a “dual-affect period”. You can feel hopeful about next year while still processing the emotional weight of this one. Both states can coexist. A little humour here helps soften the internal edges. As our guest Jo Brand joked, “I’m optimistic for next year, but I’ll still need a biscuit to cope.” - Plan lightly, with hope not pressure
Instead of rigid resolutions, consider one or two intentions rooted in values rather than outcomes. What do you want to bring more of into your life next year? Curiosity? Courage? Connection? When we choose intentions that align with who we are becoming, rather than who we think we “should” be, the year unfolds more kindly.
As New Year’s Eve approaches, I hope you can spend it with the people you love and see in 2026 on a positive note. As for me, my good friend Ainsley and I will be doing what we always do. We spent years welcoming in the New Year on stage at The Comedy Store and Jongleurs, but these days we prefer celebrating with loved ones in a wonderful jazz club where we can eat, drink and dance in style — and crucially, we are no longer the ones leading a slightly chaotic calypso rendition of Auld Lang Syne at midnight.
As for us at Humourology, we have exciting plans for 2026. New guests, new stories and new ways to explore the art and science of humour in human life. We hope you will continue walking with us as we learn, laugh and navigate the complexities of communication together.
Wherever this finds you, whether rested or reflective, energised or exhausted, may you feel supported, seen and gently uplifted. And may humour, in its softest form, offer you a little relief as the sun sets on the year.
See you next Tuesday/year.
Warmest,
Paul x
