It's almost become a tradition; every 2nd January I make my first journey into work for the New Year. I have to. They tend not to pay me if I don't go in.
And my mind is elsewhere; muzzy with memories of the festive season, fuzzy due to lack of sleep and too much bad food. But I have a lot to do- it's the first proper day back in, and there are no more breaks on the horizon. I have plans to consider, projects to get moving.
2008 stretches ahead of me as I ease the car onto the seasonally quiet M6. The Warwickshire fields surround me, foggy and foreboding. Like a blank canvas, the New Year sits there, waiting for me to make my mark. Like an unsatisfied mistress (I have no direct experience here, by the way) '08 is teasing me, tempting me with the promise of potential as yet untapped.
How will this year look? What will I achieve? Will there be crowning moments of glory, periods of desolation? Joy, laughter, despair or pain?
If only there was a sign.
Overtaking a Belgian 18-wheeler, I reach for the stereo controls. Perhaps a randomly chosen track from the CD player will be my talisman? Maybe Fate will give me some guidance in musical form? Could it be that the next track I hear will set the tone of my life for the next 12 months?
Half-empty or half-full? Let's do this thing.
I press "Play". The CD changer clunks and whirrs into life as we - it, the car and me - continue towards Coventry.
The sound of wind merges into a stylised police siren. A slow, steady drumbeat. Rising organ chords. Bass. A synth line. Trumpets.
"This town, is coming like a ghost town," snarls an echoed voice. "All the clubs have been closed down."
"This place, is coming like a ghost town,"
"Bands won't play no more,"
"Too much fighting on the dance floor."
Nothing like some politically-inspired depression-era Ska to make you feel really upbeat about the future, is there? Especially knowing that I'm heading towards the city it was written in and about.
OK. That was a bit of bad luck. Let's hit the shuffle and try again - maybe the next random track will reflect the coming year more closely.
"I can't stand up, for falling down," chirps Elvis Costello.
Radio 2 it is, then.