I woke up this morning, winter blues ringin’ in my head.

I’m not sure if you can be diagnosed formally with Seasonal Affective Disorder, but for years now the pattern of my moods has been textbook. The lethargy and gloom kick in early in November, after which there’s a brief remission in the New Year (connected with a holiday rest and residual false optimism about fresh starts), before they return with renewed menace in February.

According to the NHS website, SAD is most common in young people. This surprised me. I’d always assumed this was something that got worse with age, to do with the ultimate darkness, with mortality … but “that’s all I have to say about that.”

We’ve just had a gloriously sunny and warm October – even though the Diwali lights were already up we were still walking about in summer clothes – and perhaps this is why the turning of the year and clocks has hit me so suddenly and hard. The sense that everything might be futile jingles away in the head, like that crap song on the radio that you hate but can’t stop humming. Though I’ve started wearing it because I like to be dry but hate umbrellas, I’ve become self-conscious about my hat and can no longer wear it with my former insouciance. Psoriasis – which I used to put up with cheerfully until my daughter told me she’d been shunned by one of her schoolfriends because I had patches on my arms – is getting me down. And I’m overweight. Given I’ve mostly been skinny (even emaciated, at times) this has been a massive shock to my sense of self. No wonder I’ve been in denial for so long.

Put it all together and it’s as if I’ve been dragged into the trees on Tooting Common by Mid-Life and his psycho-mate Crisis, and been given such a kicking that although the bruises are real I have no memory of the incident.

So what to do?

Either slide into further decline (tempting) or (better) TAKE STEPS to tackle each problem individually. The first act involved referring to the NHS Direct website, not in the hope of salvation, but as an attempt to focus the mind.

1. Winter Blues

I’ve just bought a jar of Vitamin D to supplement my existing meds. Since exposure to daylight is key, perhaps I should wrap up in duvets and fingerless gloves and work outside on dry days. Some people swear by light therapy, but light boxes are expensive and apparently risk a number of unwelcome side-effects, so I’ll pass on that. The NHS recommends a) more exercise, b) careful attention to diet, c) less alcohol and d) no smoking. It has no published views on listening to music but it might be an idea to remove all traces of Mahler, Richard Strauss, Black Sabbath and Nick Drake (not sure I can do that) from the iPod for a while.

2. Hat Crisis

The NHS has no known views on this. Since my hat is uncool and mis-shapen from the rough-and-tumble of family life and one rain-soaking too many, a possible remedy would be to buy a new one. Hugh Bonneville, I noticed, was sporting a highly covetable titfer on Downton Abbey last week (guilty pleasure). But on balance, I think this is something I just have to ride out.

3. Psoriasis

There is no cure though – as with winter blues – sunlight would help, as can certain emollients and UV light therapy (which apparently risks a number of unwelcome side-effects). Other things that help include a) more exercise, b) careful attention to diet, c) less or no alcohol and d) no smoking.

4. Weight Gain

The NHS Direct website recommends a) more exercise, b) careful attention to diet, c) less or no alcohol and d) no smoking.

5. Mid-Life Crisis

At present, there are no plans for Harleys or hair-transplants. It’s such a vague term there are no obvious cures except dealing with it, but I have it on good authority that a) more exercise, b) careful attention to diet, c) less or no alcohol and d) no smoking would probably help.

Unfortunately, it’s all pointing one way: I have to clean up my act.

One of my favourite songs is Roadrunner by Jonathan Richman. Last week, someone gave me a recording of a rare, live version, Roadrunner (Thrice). It’s twice as long as the other versions and allows time for a soliloquy on loneliness and for the journey along Route 128 to become truly epic. I ought to listen to it now to cheer myself up. I can’t dream that I’m young, fit and carefree anymore, but it might convince me that winter can still be a source of magic.