It’s a tradition I love to keep.

23:59 on December 31st you will find me cuddled up under a duvet fast asleep oblivious to the forced happiness of New Year's Eve. We’re not Scottish. We had just finished four weeks of Christmas madness. We’re obese. We have liver damage and we’re broke but we have to put our happy faces on and party like it’s 1999.

That year was an exception to the rule. It did feel different as a century and a millennium came and went. There was a sense of something unique. It was worth hanging around for. In the years after, I grew to love giving two fingers to forced shows of happiness.

This brings us to today. World Happiness Day. Oh god, I’ve a big smile on my face. I want to jump in the air and do cartwheels.
Not.

It’s an absurd idea. Why the United Nations got behind it is a whole can of worms. Yes, having a happy attitude does improve mental health but forced happiness? C’mon! That is far more dangerous to people who think they have to be happy just because they see a shiny new logo and a hashtag.

I am happy today but not because I’m getting into the spirit. I’m happy because I caught an unexpected glimpse of the eclipse. A stunning natural phenomenon which I shared with colleagues, with only one set of paper specs between us. It was a simple pleasure. The happiness police might say that’s what the day is about. No, it’s not. It’s quackery. Populism gone mad.

Bah humbug.