Maybe that's why we need these empty days. Days that don't even have a name. (I am deliberately avoiding the fact that someone recently coined the term "Twixtmas"). Unspoken for, they allow us to refill our lives with the important things. Talking, walking, thinking. Perhaps to challenge ourselves. On Christmas Eve I woke before dawn to swim in the sea. The waves were lashing the sea wall, great white luminous fingers reaching up to the sky. I was the only one on the beach - save for a woman runner who dashed past in a blur of neon Lycra, shouting her approval of my naked madness: "Fantastic!"