January 16, 2026
January 16, 2026

Boo to dry January

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The weather is on the side of the Church. At a time when pagans and secularists are following the unchristian practices of Dry January (no drink) and Veganuary (no meat or dairy), the weather — at least in Britain and Ireland — has turned horrid. Indeed, we are only just over the worst of an actual storm, Goretti (an unusual meteorological intervention on the part of St Maria Goretti). The point is this: the weather is so miserable that it is more apparent than ever that abstinence and self-denial are grotesquely at odds with the actual condition of the month. The weather is telling us one thing: down with Dry January.

And that, of course, is the Catholic view. In the traditional understanding of the season, Christmas begins on Christmas Eve and continues in full-blown festivity until Epiphany on 6 January, with a crescendo of merriment on the vigil — Twelfth Night — on the 5th. Then we enter what might be called Long Christmas, lasting until Candlemas: not the full-throttle celebrations of the Twelve Days, but a gently celebratory mode that carries on through January until 2 February, the Feast of the Purification of the Virgin.

The concept of Dry January — a British abomination invented in 2013 by the charity Alcohol Change UK — therefore arrives at exactly the wrong time: right in the middle of the Twelve Days, just as festivities are in full swing. The equally frightful Veganuary, another British invention, followed in 2014 to encourage people to give up meat and dairy for the month and has now, according to its website, spread to 228 countries. That too begins slap bang in the middle of the Christian celebration, and at a time of year when nature itself is telling us to eat steak and kidney pudding, followed by a hot whisky.

Both tendencies are tied to the otherwise harmless habit of making New Year’s resolutions. Unfortunately, for many people, those resolutions involve becoming fitter, thinner, and more sober — and they begin on New Year’s Day.

I have been campaigning for years now against both Dry January and Veganuary, and it is interesting how receptive people are to the backlash. I recorded a podcast on the subject on Friday, and the (male) producer spoke eloquently about how dreadful he found Veganuary when he attempted it to fit in with his vegan friends. The thing is, at this time of year it is cold outside. You need carbohydrates. You need hearty stews. You need fish pie. You need all the deliciousness of the season — and all the drink that properly accompanies festivity. I am thinking boeuf bourguignon, with half the bottle in the stew and the other half in the chef.

It is not merely anti-Christian to fast before Candlemas; it is fundamentally at odds with the season.

The proper time to give up meat and drink is, of course, Lent. This year it begins early, on 18 February, but that is still far more fitting than January. The days are lengthening; the darkness has lifted; things are stirring underground. And, of course, Sundays do not count.

So let us do the Catholic thing. Eat, drink, and be merry right through to 2 February. Look at the weather: it is telling us something. Keep fasting and abstinence for Lent.

The weather is on the side of the Church. At a time when pagans and secularists are following the unchristian practices of Dry January (no drink) and Veganuary (no meat or dairy), the weather — at least in Britain and Ireland — has turned horrid. Indeed, we are only just over the worst of an actual storm, Goretti (an unusual meteorological intervention on the part of St Maria Goretti). The point is this: the weather is so miserable that it is more apparent than ever that abstinence and self-denial are grotesquely at odds with the actual condition of the month. The weather is telling us one thing: down with Dry January.

And that, of course, is the Catholic view. In the traditional understanding of the season, Christmas begins on Christmas Eve and continues in full-blown festivity until Epiphany on 6 January, with a crescendo of merriment on the vigil — Twelfth Night — on the 5th. Then we enter what might be called Long Christmas, lasting until Candlemas: not the full-throttle celebrations of the Twelve Days, but a gently celebratory mode that carries on through January until 2 February, the Feast of the Purification of the Virgin.

The concept of Dry January — a British abomination invented in 2013 by the charity Alcohol Change UK — therefore arrives at exactly the wrong time: right in the middle of the Twelve Days, just as festivities are in full swing. The equally frightful Veganuary, another British invention, followed in 2014 to encourage people to give up meat and dairy for the month and has now, according to its website, spread to 228 countries. That too begins slap bang in the middle of the Christian celebration, and at a time of year when nature itself is telling us to eat steak and kidney pudding, followed by a hot whisky.

Both tendencies are tied to the otherwise harmless habit of making New Year’s resolutions. Unfortunately, for many people, those resolutions involve becoming fitter, thinner, and more sober — and they begin on New Year’s Day.

I have been campaigning for years now against both Dry January and Veganuary, and it is interesting how receptive people are to the backlash. I recorded a podcast on the subject on Friday, and the (male) producer spoke eloquently about how dreadful he found Veganuary when he attempted it to fit in with his vegan friends. The thing is, at this time of year it is cold outside. You need carbohydrates. You need hearty stews. You need fish pie. You need all the deliciousness of the season — and all the drink that properly accompanies festivity. I am thinking boeuf bourguignon, with half the bottle in the stew and the other half in the chef.

It is not merely anti-Christian to fast before Candlemas; it is fundamentally at odds with the season.

The proper time to give up meat and drink is, of course, Lent. This year it begins early, on 18 February, but that is still far more fitting than January. The days are lengthening; the darkness has lifted; things are stirring underground. And, of course, Sundays do not count.

So let us do the Catholic thing. Eat, drink, and be merry right through to 2 February. Look at the weather: it is telling us something. Keep fasting and abstinence for Lent.

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