We are about to enter a darker time for so many

WINTER time – even the words evoke a melancholy mood. As the clock ticks down to this reviled stink bomb, which is annually exploded in the midst of autumn’s glorious feast, its bad-vibe portents are already visible in an extra despondency about the streets and byways of the nation.

Bad enough we mourn shuttered pubs, cafes, theatres and concerts, but now we must add another lash to scourge our weary backs by inviting darkness to steal an hour of precious brightness.

The annual advent of this faceless time bandit has cast a gloomy net across the delights of October’s stunning displays – not unlike the guards arriving to break up the party just as everybody boogies out to Pharrell’s Happy.

A tradition about as welcome as a fart in church, this illintentioned daylight saving time not only pilfers 60 minutes of afternoon delights, but also limits horizons and harms our health. An EU consultation on daylight saving time last year generated 4.6 million responses – the highest ever engagement by the public

– with 84pc complaining it was socially disruptive and responsible for a variety of health problems. 88pc of Irish respondents wanted permanently rid of it. And yet, like the bride’s drunken uncle who insists on another chorus of I Did It My Way even as the hotel’s cleaners arrive for the morning shift, we continue to allow this clock poacher a place on the guest list. The original daylight saving time was enacted into law to support the economy in World War I by extending work hours and limiting energy usage. Repealed when the war ended, it was again ratified during World War II – and has since remained intact.

“An extra yawn one morning in the springtime, an extra snooze one night in the autumn,” Winston Churchill remarked. “We borrow an hour one night in April, we pay it back with golden interest six months later.” To which a newspaper letter writer asked: “Daylight savings time – why are they saving it, and where do they keep it? Only the government would believe that you could cut a foot off the top of a blanket, sew it to the bottom, and have a longer blanket.”

Seasonal affective disorder, despite its cute SAD acronym, is no laughing matter for the millions who topple into a deep despondency as we trudge into these darker days. At best, the condition bestows a dispirited funk to daily life, but far worse when upset circadian rhythms result in car accidents, workplace injuries, stress and strokes.

Interestingly, though, if Ireland ever does bite the bullet to blackball this annual time pirate, we may find ourselves inhabiting a dual-zone island where Belfast is an hour behind Dublin.

So, as we’re forced to endure another season of darkness, perhaps it’s best to heed the wisdom offered by a west Cork farmer last week: “I don’t mind daylight saving time – with inflation, the hour will be the only thing I’ve saved all year.”